The Fourth Bride
by Biancamella
Summary: Alucard's self-control withers as fate presents him with another possible Bride, straining his relationship with Hellsing and humanity all over again. Rated MA for intense violence, language, gore, and explicit sex.
1. Chapter 1, Prologue

I just added this in, so forgive the switching around and the update alerts.

Enjoy.

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**Chapter 1, Prologue**

"He inhaled deeply, that monster that needed no breath, savoring the rotted copper stench of old blood. And so much of it. He absently ran his tongue along his lips, already sticky and half-dried. Something about Romanian blood…

"Sir?"

He opened his eyes and realized that his head had rolled back. He lowered his gaze from the ceiling and settled it on the soldier beside him.

"Is it clear, sir?"

His lips parted slightly as he turned his face up again and closed his eyes. Deep, animalistic breaths sounded from him as his chest swelled over and over. He did this for a full minute, and it took every shred of self-control that the soldier had to keep himself from trembling as he listened. The chest swelled one last time, and no shuddering exhale followed. A fine rivulet of sweat stung the soldier's eye as the monster spoke:

"Clear."

The soldier watched him leave, watched his heavy boots make no sound as he picked his way through the vampire corpses and disappeared up the crypt steps into the night above.

* * *

Deep below the crypt, in a room hidden from eyes and black magic alike by holy seals, Magnus stirred in his bath of blood. The presence was gone now, the presence that Magnus had never dreamed still existed. Slipping down further into the ancient sarcophagus, he let the blood cover him completely once more, let it run into his nose and mouth and eyes. A dull splash sounded, and he felt a rush of heat on his chest; his remaining servants were pouring fresh blood in for him.

His powers were growing, surely, but to consume the blood of The First, The True Immortal, The No-Life King... Magnus needed to sleep again, he knew, but he couldn't. Under the pool of red, he opened his mouth impossibly wide and began draining the sarcophagus.

He imagined it was The Prince's blood.


	2. Chapter 2

Please know that this story will take shape based on the reviews it receives. Want more blood? You got it. More sex? Absolutely.

Thanks in advance for reading, and for reviewing. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 2**

Lolly's Grocery cut a shabby figure as the sun sunk behind it; bad masonry, a pot-holed parking lot, and the smell of cat urine marked it distinctly from the clean-cut Aldi across the street. Bracken and pineapple weed had forced its way out of the building's crumbling foundation to bow over the sidewalk, brushing ankles and calves as people passed by. From a corner that was missing several bricks, a single rusted gutter leaned far out from the building as though trying to escape.

Inside, Catherine pulled her work polo away from her chest to fan herself. The building had no central air system. Instead, mini tabletop fans had been placed next to each of the three registers. All they really did was blow the hot air around, but Mr. Lolly wouldn't be moved to spend any more money than the average miser. Catherine's fan rattled violently, more so than the others, but she had learned to ignore it; Mr. Lolly had superglued the fans to the countertops to prevent theft.

"Hey, Catherine. You going to Eddie's later?" Marlena, the other register girl, called over. Marlena was short and pudgy, high school-aged, with a tanned complexion that Catherine would guess came from salon visits. Her bleached hair was pulled up into a high ponytail that flipped this way and that when she talked, as she had a habit of bobbing her head. As far as Catherine knew, Marlena was working at Lolly's for her summer break. Though she only worked part-time and Catherine full-, they saw plenty of each other, sometimes to Catherine's agitation; Marlena spent more time on her phone than she did helping stock or check, and she'd taken more sick days in three weeks than Catherine had in half a year.

The latter leaned on her countertop and into the fan. "Nah, I've got stuff to do. Aren't you under the drinking age? It's like, what? Eighteen here?"

"I'll be eighteen next week," Marlena said. She suddenly got an incredulous look, her eyes looking raccoon-like under all of the smudged eyeliner. "Can you even drink back home? Legally?"

The fan wasn't doing any good. Catherine switched it off and her register stopped rattling. "Yeah. Why?"

Marlena shrugged. "I don't know. I just didn't think you were, like, you know, that old."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Catherine said, feigning anger. She pulled a sweaty strand of hair away from her cheek. "Twenty-one isn't old!"

She could admit, however, that she looked older than she really was. Stress had slowly dissolved her natural smile and had given her a serious look that most people mistook for sadness. Purple half-moons bruised beneath her eyes, giving them a dark and brooding appearance, and her white skin created a harsh contrast that made them seem all the much darker. Had she worn her hair down she might have looked more her age, but Catherine consistently tugged her long, dark hair into a tight ponytail.

Still, she squinted at Marlena.

The pudgy girl gave her a "whatever" smile, shrugging and clicking her fake nails on the counter.

* * *

Two hours later, they had seen a total of three customers. Currently there was only one in the store, an old woman in a woolen shawl shuffling around the pharmacy. Catherine marveled that the old broad hadn't suffered a heatstroke; Catherine herself was ready to have one, and she was in a polo and capris.

As the old woman began making her slow and steady way to the registers, Marlena put her cell phone in her pocket and tramped off to the bathroom. Catherine narrowed her eyes at the bouncing ponytail as it disappeared down the canned goods aisle. Thanks a lot.

Laxatives and prune snacks. Catherine rung them all up and tried to not look at the old woman, who was giving her a look through her big bi-focals as if daring her to say something about the purchases. Catherine did not, but she had certainly thought of plenty of good one-liners.

"Have a nice night," Catherine said as she handed the plastic bags over. The old woman ignored her and shuffled out the door. It slammed behind her.

Marlena all but came skipping back from the bathroom, her chubby cheeks glowing with fresh blush. "Time to go home!" she said, snatching up the front door key from under her register.

Catherine closed her register down and started wiping counters. It was dark outside now. She would go home, order a pizza, have a few beers, watch a movie-

She jumped as a loud bang sounded behind her, coupled with Marlena's screech. Catherine turned to see Marlena standing back from the door, the key still in it. On the other side, a forty-something year-old man was pressed against the glass. His head bobbled drunkenly, as though it were too heavy for his neck.

"Jesus!" Marlena said. "Fucking _Jesus_!"

Catherine came over to the door. The man was staring at each of them through the glass, his eyes moving back and forth. They were red rimmed and veiny, as though he were sick or on something. He was wearing a suit, but it was stained and torn along the hems. His hair was a filthy, matted mop. Catherine looked down and saw that he only had one shoe.

Marlena recovered and slapped the glass angrily, and the guy's nose bumped against the door. "Bloody hell's wrong with you?!" she screamed at him. Catherine pulled her backward roughly and tapped the sign in the window.

"We're closed," she told him. "We open again at nine tomorrow." The man blinked, his eyes appearing to get larger as he leaned forward and began to…

_Sniff?_

Catherine felt her lips open and draw down in disgust. The guy was trying to smell her.

"Oh my god," Marlena said as he opened his mouth and ran his tongue up the door. "What the actual fuck?" Catherine shook her head, watching the man lap at the door. His eyes rolled up until only the whites shown. His fingers squeaked in the saliva as he dragged them down the glass.

A camera sounded behind her, and she turned to see Marlena holding her phone up to take a picture. "No fucking way," Marlena said, shaking her head back and forth. Her ponytail waggled.

Catherine stepped away from the door as the man began to grind himself against it suggestively, his lips drawn up into a smile as he lapped away at the glass. His tongue was so long it was almost freakish. Catherine looked at Marlena. "Call the police."

"Why? He's just some crazy homeless guy." Marlena nodded at the door. "See? There he goes."

Catherine looked back to see the man stumbling down the sidewalk, away from the store. He walked bent over to the point that one of his hands almost dragged the ground. It looked horribly unnatural.

"Crazy asshole," Marlena laughed as they slowly went back to cleaning up.

* * *

Within an hour, they had wiped everything down with a bottle of diluted cleaner and swept up. The two girls gathered the trash from all of the cans in the store, dumped them into two big bags, and headed to the dumpster with them. Catherine held the door open for Marlena as they stepped into the stock room.

"Where are they?" Marlena said, and Catherine looked around for the stock guys. Eddie, the other high schooler, and Dale, the much older man, were nowhere in sight. On the table by the wall, a cigarette smoldered in the ash tray.

"Probably out back," Catherine told her. "Or in the restroom."

"Loo."

"Whatever."

They reached the back door that lead outside, and Catherine held it open again while Marlena squeezed by. Marlena stepped out and something abruptly collided with her, knocking her out of Catherine's view. It was like she'd been hit by a train, the speed at which she'd vanished. "Wha-," Catherine began, the heavy plastic bag slipping from her fingers.

A horrible scream sounded, and Catherine rushed out the doorway. Marlena was lying in the dirt, and someone was sitting on top of her. It was the man who had harassed them earlier.

"Help!" Marlena screamed, clawing at his face with her nails. "_HELP ME!_"

Catherine threw all of her weight at the man as she rushed to push him off of the girl, but it was like throwing herself at granite. Faster than her eyes could follow, he snatched one of her arms and tossed her away, much like one would a Frisbee. Catherine landed on her back and rolled into the fence. She tried to sit up, wheezing to regain the air that had been knocked out of her.

The man turned his attention back to the thrashing, wailing Marlena. With one hand he clutched a fistful of her hair, and then promptly banged her head against the ground. Marlena's wails choked for a second, but didn't stop. He did it again, harder this time, and Catherine saw Marlena's flailing arms fall away from the man. Her head lolled limply to the side when he let go of it. The man leaned down over her.

Catherine was up now. Coughing, she desperately looked around for a weapon, something, anything to hit this guy with. She spotted a chunk of rock the size of her head behind the dumpster, and she hefted it up. The man doing something to Marlena's neck now, his hands groping under her polo. He didn't even look up as Catherine ran over to him with the rock above her head. She swung it straight down with all the force she could muster.

The solid reverberation of the hit thudded through Catherine's arms. The man fell to the side and a dark pool began to well under his head. He twitched. Catherine dropped the rock and frantically began searching Marlena for her phone. Marlena was bleeding out of her neck a little where the freak had bitten her, but the bite wasn't too bad. Catherine found the phone and was dialing when footsteps made her look up.

"Oh my god, Eddie," she said, pushing herself up and running over to the boy. "This guy came out of nowhere. I hit him and I think he's dead, but I'm not sure. Oh. Oh my god, _Eddie_…"

Eddie was bleeding. A lot. In fact, an entire chunk of his neck was missing. His overalls were black with blood, and it was smeared all over his face and in his hair. He blinked slowly at her, then turned his face upward.

Catherine stared in mute horror as he began to sniff the air, his eyes rolling back to show the whites. She turned and ran for the door, clutching the phone as it rang for the police. Marlena's attacker was still unconscious, and Catherine hoped to God that he would stay that way while she-

The door was locked. She yanked on it again irrationally in her dismay. She had forgotten to prop it, and they were locked out.

She spun around to see Eddie stalking toward her. Catherine looked around, wide-eyed as she tried to find an exit. A nine-foot wooden fence surrounded the back of the store, and there was nowhere to go without the key to the dumpster gate. A voice came from her hand, suddenly. From the phone.

"Please help me!" she screamed at the dispatcher. "This guy attacked us and my friend is-" She stopped and turned to run from Eddie, who was darting toward her now. Catherine reached the fence and dropped the phone to climb it. She didn't get halfway up before fingers hooked into her shirt and she was yanked backward. The ground met her back hard and she coughed, breathless again. Eddie stood over her, a black silhouette in the streetlamp overhanging them. He lifted his head and inhaled deeply.

Catherine rolled over and began scrabbling away. The little breath she had went out of her in a whoosh as Eddie fell on top of her. Catherine felt his bloody fingers snake into her hair and clamp it tightly as she squirmed and clawed the dirt in front of her, trying to escape. She opened her mouth to scream, but she didn't have enough air. Instead, a weak cry came out:

"Help…"

She felt a tongue on her neck, and through all the fear and repulsion she realized that it was cold. There was a hissing sound off to her left, and she rolled her eyes to the side.

Eddie was slammed off of her with enough force that she rolled as well. Catherine didn't hesitate this time. Breath or no breath, she levered herself up and half-ran/half-limped toward Marlena, away from the awful growling and hissing behind her. The man was gone from Marlena's side. Catherine fell beside her and shook her, begging her to wake up. She looked back and saw the man and Eddie circling one another, and realized that it was them making those inhuman noises. She shook Marlena harder, her eyes welling with tears. _Please get up, please get up..._

A terrible screech pierced the air, and Catherine cried out, covering her ears in pain. She looked back to see the man on top of Eddie, to see Eddie's head being pulled backward. The man gave a hard yank, and the head promptly tore off of the neck. Catherine screamed.

The man tossed Eddie's head to the side and turned to look almost languidly back at her. He stepped off of Eddie's back and began making his way toward her.

Catherine couldn't carry Marlena. She couldn't even drag the girl. Desperation took hold again, and Catherine grabbed up the rock she had used earlier. Standing quickly, she readied it in her hands. The man paused when he saw this, and a slow smile spread across his features. His mouth became progressively wider until he laughed, and a cold wash of fear drew goose bumps on the girl's arms.

His mouth was filled with razor-like teeth. Shark teeth.

The rock suddenly felt too heavy in Catherine's hands, and she almost dropped it. Her legs went weak, her whole body trembling as though it might collapse at any moment. She had never imagined that her death would come like this. She had never imagined monsters were real either, but here was one laughing at her now. As the man stepped out from under the streetlamp and into the shadow, Catherine saw his eyes flicker red.

Marlena stirred beside her.

Catherine looked down at her, then back up to the man prowling toward them, and a resolve hardened in her. It almost wasn't real, all of this. It was that idea, the idea that this wasn't real, that dissolved her fear. Her fingers dug into the rock, and she moved to stand protectively in front of the groaning Marlena.

"Stay back!" she screamed at the man. She hefted the rock menacingly. "Stay back or I'll smash your fucking skull in!" The man stopped again, but he didn't laugh this time. His teeth bared, and his glowing eyes flared wide. Catherine found herself baring her own teeth and taking a step forward. "STAY BACK!" she roared.

The man lowered his head and ran at her, his arms stretched in front of him, fingers hooked into claws. Catherine took a step forward and swung the rock right before he reached her. It crashed hard into his jaw, but it didn't stop him from falling on top of her. They hit the dirt hard and Catherine squirmed out from under him. She hadn't done as good a job of bashing him this time, though, and he was only dazed for a moment. One of his arms flashed out and snatched her wrist, and his grip was so tight that she cried out.

Any other time, she wouldn't have been able to lift a rock this size with one arm, but adrenaline boosted her strength. Hoisting the make-shift weapon high, she let it crash down on the man's face. The grip on her wrist loosened slightly, and Catherine hoisted the rock up again.

She felt the rock travel down further into the flesh as part of his face caved in. Blood spurted up into her face, and Catherine closed her eyes and pressed her lips shut tight against it. She broke the man's grip and took the rock in both of her hands, lugging it upward and down with all her might.

Again.

And again.

And again.

When she tried to lift the rock once more, Catherine found that her arms simply wouldn't. She turned away from the man before she opened her eyes, and when she crawled over to Marlena she made sure to not accidentally look at him.

Marlena's eyes were fluttering open, but it didn't seem as though she were seeing anything. Mustering all the remaining strength she could, Catherine willed herself to stand. She wanted to run to the cell phone lying by the fence, but she couldn't. Her legs felt as though they were operating completely separate from each other, and she found herself focusing hard to keep her balance. When she reached the phone, she almost fell over bending to pick it up. Despair overcame her when she realized it was broken.

Lolly's didn't have a phone, and Catherine had left her cell at home today. She would have to go find help, and pray that Marlena didn't suffer any sort of brain damage or die while Catherine was gone. She turned around and started toward the door when a gunshot made her jump.

It had come from inside the store. She heard another one and started again. Close by, tires squealed. Through the fence Catherine could see police vehicles pulling up onto the curb, and the relief was so much that she sunk to her knees. The police were here, thank god.

Catherine found herself smiling, her eyes wet with joyful tears as the door opened. Her smile faded, though, when a tall figure stepped outside, his long coat drifting after him. He wasn't dressed like a police officer. Not at all. She watched him walk, glide really, over to Eddie, then over to the man whose face she had smashed. He stood over it for a moment, silent, as though he were wondering how this had happened. Catherine suddenly felt the inexplicable need to defend herself, and she opened her mouth.

"I had to," she said softly. The man looked over, and Catherine was surprised that she had heard him.

Orange glasses glinted beneath his wide hat.

"I had to," she said again, louder this time. "He tried to kill us." She was suddenly very aware that her hands and forearms were slicked with blood. A fleeting thought: _What if Marlena dies and they think I killed everyone?_

The tall man turned back to the body. Lifting the gun that she hadn't seen him carrying, he shot the dead man in the chest. To Catherine's horror, the dead man's arms shot up as if he were still alive, and then he all but exploded into what looked like ash. She watched the tall man turn and shoot Eddie's corpse, and that exploded to ash too.

"How?" Catherine breathed. The tall man lifted his nose in the air and sniffed, then slipped the gun into his coat. He turned and began walking toward Catherine, creating an engulfing shadow over her as he approached.

He wore tall black boots and a charcoal suit, complete with a red cravat and overcoat. On his long hands were white gloves marked with strange symbols. His wide-brimmed hat wavered slightly as the breeze caught it. When he spoke, his voice was deep and gravelly:

"You killed him…"

Catherine blinked, her mouth falling open as she looked up into the orange glasses. "No,I- I was-."

"… with a _rock_."

She stared at him, completely at a loss for words.

He began to laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

Here it is: chapter three.

Enjoy.

**Edit 7.13.14 : Catherine's conversation with Integra.**

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**Chapter 3**

Catherine had no idea what to say. She looked down at her hands as the tall man stood over her, laughing hysterically now. Her skin was dark and slick with blood, and she suddenly felt sick. She looked past the man at Marlena; the girl was still lying on the ground, unmoving. Tears pricked Catherine's eyes. This wasn't funny.

"Stop it," she whispered. The man laughed and laughed, almost doubling over in his mirth. "Stop it," Catherine said louder, her ears starting to burn with rage. She rose up onto her knees and screamed at him, "STOP LAUGHING."

He stopped. But he was grinning at her now, as though her anger were amusing him too. "Was it difficult for you?" he asked, his teeth flashing sharply as he grinned. "Or did it come naturally, killing another creature like that? So brutally? So _mercilessly?" _He spoke with an odd, blended accent; his soft vowels were very British, but he pronounced his consonants in a thick way that was reminiscent of Eastern Europe.

Catherine glowered up at the man, and she realized that she was so angry she was crying. Her fists clenched, the blood squelching between her fingers. "You can't laugh," was all she could grate out. "You can't laugh at this." The man grinned wider, and Catherine's expression of rage melted to shock.

His teeth. His teeth were just like the dead man's teeth, long and sharp.

"A human can't, perhaps," came his deep voice as Catherine stared, "but a monster can." He reached up with deliberate slowness to pull the glasses from his face. "And I am a monster. Aren't I?"

Catherine's breath hitched when he revealed his eyes. Like the dead man's they glowed, but the red glimmer was deeper, much more intense in the tall man's eyes. Hell's fires could have been contained in those eyes. "God," she breathed.

"Is not here," the tall man answered.

A shuffling sound came from behind him.

Catherine broke the hypnotic eye contact to look around the man, and she saw Marlena coming toward them. She struggled upright and ran around the man to Marlena, who was staggering and staring at the ground. Catherine grabbed hold of her shoulders to steady her.

"Are you okay?" she said. Marlena shuddered, but she seemed to be able to stand on her own. Catherine took a step back from her to assess her injuries. "It's okay," she assured the girl. "I think the police are here-"

Marlena raised her hand swiftly and drew her nails down hard across Catherine's cheek. Catherine shoved her back with a scream, and Marlena tripped over her own feet. She fell into the dirt while Catherine gasped and held her bleeding face. Marlena slowly levered herself up, pausing to stick her bloody fingers in her mouth. Catherine backed away from her as the girl sucked under her nails and licked her whole hand clean. She met Catherine's eyes, and Catherine saw that they glowed red. With unnatural speed, Marlena suddenly kicked off of the ground and launched herself at her.

A metallic click sounded in Catherine's right ear. In the span of half a second she saw the long slide of a silver gun come over her shoulder, then a deafening bang pierced her eardrum. Marlena was a burst of ash in mid-air, and then the wind carried her away. Only shallow breath would come to Catherine as she watched the ash cloud that was Marlena dissipate.

"That was close," came the gravelly voice into her good ear; she could feel the man's cool breath on her skin. "I do believe she would have killed you." Catherine gasped softly when she felt his nose against the side of her head, but she was still too shocked to move.

"What's happening?" she whimpered, tears burning her eyes as she stared straight ahead at nothing. "What is all this?" There was a pressure on her belly, and Catherine realized that the man had wrapped an arm around her.

"You're bleeding," he said softly. The pressure on her belly increased as the man drew her back against him. Catherine felt no body heat from him. The man put away the gun into his coat, freeing his other hand to stroke her hair gently and turn her wounded cheek toward him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him open his mouth, and then his cold tongue was sliding up her cheek, lapping the blood away.

_Push him away!_ Catherine's body wouldn't obey her mind.

His lapping was gentle as first, but now his tongue moved roughly against the wounds, causing her to wince. His arm was tightening almost painfully around her now, and Catherine gasped when she felt her feet leave the ground.

"Your blood," he breathed against her wounds. "So full, so rich…" Catherine felt the soft fabric of his gloved palm against her forehead as he pulled her head to the side. His breath tickled her neck as he nosed her hair out of the way. She felt his tongue on her skin, and a soft "Oh" escaped her. Why wasn't she fighting? Screaming? His cold lips moved against her throat, parting, and Catherine felt her eyes closing in the strangest and most pleasurable anticipation. _Please, yes…_

Her body jolted and there was a sudden hard pressure on her neck. An intense thrill shot through her when she felt this, and she cried out from it. The fingers of her right hand dug into the arm holding her up, and her other hand reached up to clutch at the man's hair; she seized a hard handful of it and heard him growl against her skin.

Catherine was vaguely aware that he was biting her, but she felt no pain. Instead, an intense heat radiated out from where his teeth were embedded in her flesh. It was glorious, this heat, as it spread from her neck and coursed through her body. Her heart felt hot in her chest, like a throbbing cinder, and with each pulse it sent the heat back up to her brain. That heavy heat stoked itself deep in her abdomen, too, and with a moan Catherine squeezed her thighs together to accommodate it. The pleasure was so fierce that it was agonizing to not. The man groaned into her flesh, his fingertips digging into her side, as she ground her hips back against him.

She didn't want this to end. Pulling the long, black hair clenched in her fist, she urged him on. She felt his long fingers rake through her own hair, which had long ago fallen loose from its tie. He grasped a tight fistful of it and tugged her head back in a dominating way. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as the pressure against her skin redoubled, and she stared sightlessly up at the stars. Something hot was running down between her breasts, soaking her shirt. _Don't stop don't stop don't stop…_

"Alucard."

The pressure released, and Catherine gasped, tugging the long tresses and begging it to start again. "Please," she whispered aloud. A strong hand untangled her fingers from the hair they clutched, and Catherine felt the ground beneath her feet again. The world spun, and she overbalanced forward, but that strong arm reappeared and snagged her waist before she could fall.

"Release the girl."

There was a moment's hesitation from the tall man, but he obeyed. Catherine wobbled in place, the world slowly settling now. In front of her, a figure was doubling together to form a man with long, blonde hair. No, a woman. She wore a sharp-cut blue suit and a neat crimson cravat. A large silver cross gleamed at her throat. She regarded Catherine through big, round glasses, her blue gaze impassive.

"Can you walk?" she said, her voice deep for a woman's. Catherine nodded slowly, using the woman as a focal point to keep her balance. "Then go inside. Do as the officers tell you."

Catherine did. A man in a SWAT-like uniform was waiting at the propped-open door, and she let him take her by the arm. His arm badge read "Hellsing." Catherine looked over her shoulder before she was led away, and she saw the tall man staring intently at her.

_Those eyes…_

* * *

Rabies. They told her that it was rabies.

"They burst into ash!" Catherine cried. "Rabies doesn't do that! Rabies doesn't make your eyes glow, or, or… any of what happened!" She was sitting in a cushioned, high-backed chair. When she had been led out of Lolly's, the officers had put her in an SUV and slipped a blindfold over her eyes. She had protested at first, but a threat concerning a gag and a pair of handcuffs quieted her. A short drive later, she was led up some steps and into a building, and subsequently into the small, high-ceilinged study she sat in now.

Catherine looked at the blood transfusion drip that snaked down into her arm, then back at the officer. He had removed his helmet and mask, and turned out to be quite a handsome fellow with his dark eyes and curly hair. Still, he was infuriating.

"It wasn't rabies," Catherine asserted. "That's bullshit, and you know it. They were like zombies, they were _monsters_."

Mr. Handsome shrugged. "Rabies can be scary." Catherine pursed her lips and glared at him.

The door opened, and the officer jumped up. The woman in the blue suit walked in carrying a small briefcase, followed closely behind by the tall man, who wore an almost sullen expression. Catherine's blood still stained his face and neck, and she found herself avoiding his burning gaze as much to keep from looking at her own blood as to keep from looking into his eyes.

"That will be all," the woman said, and the officer saluted smartly. He stepped out, closing the door behind him. Catherine shifted uncomfortably in her blood-stained clothes as the woman sat down in a leather chair across from her. The briefcase rested next to her expensive shoes.

"Why do their eyes glow?" Catherine asked, her gaze flickering up to the tall man, then away again when his stare seemed to intensify.

The woman opened a drawer in the side table next to her and withdrew a cigar box. She selected one, lit it, and took a deep drag. She exhaled. "Because they're vampires," she said matter-of-factly. The woman was quiet for a moment, as if letting that sink in. "You saw quite a lot tonight. Usually there aren't any survivors for us to deal with. I apologize for the inconsistency in the explanations you've received."

Catherine looked down at the ornate rug beneath the woman's feet. "Vampires are real," she said, and the woman confirmed with a "Yes." The girl shook her head slowly as if in disbelief, but she did say, "Makes sense." It would have been harder to accept if she hadn't just been attacked by the monsters. Wait...

_The bite!_

"Am I going to become a vampire?" Catherine said quickly, her eyes widening. The woman offered a dry smile.

"No."

"So why did Marlena..." Catherine trailed off. It hurt to think about her.

A thread of smoke curled from the woman's cigar. "Your friend's bite was different than yours. Much different." She didn't explain further.

The tall man shifted behind the woman's chair. He was tilting his head to the side, watching her still.

"Who are you?" Catherine asked.

"We are Hellsing, an organization dedicated to eradicating vampires all over the world. I am Sir Integra Hellsing, the director."

Catherine's eyes wandered back to the tall man. "He's with you?" she said. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Catherine broke the contact to look at Integra. The dry smile returned.

"He is," she replied. The director looked sideways at the tall man. "And I apologize for his behavior as well. Now…" She lifted the briefcase onto the table and placed it facing Catherine. "As you can imagine, we don't want the world in a panic over this. I have here 75,000 pounds, which should hold you over for a while until you find another job, or help you to afford a psychiatrist should you need one." The briefcase clicked open and Integra showed her the money. "You will take this and leave here, after your transfusion is finished, of course, and you will not say anything to anyone about what you saw tonight."

The reality of the situation sunk in; they expected her to pretend like this had never happened. Catherine thought of Marlena, of her family, and she wondered what sort of lie they would be told. And Eddie's family, and Dale's… It seemed so cold, so wrong to change the truth.

"If you didn't want this getting out, why did you tell me anything?" Catherine said, her voice carrying a note of bitterness.

Integra smiled that dry smile again. "When these things happen without explanation, they can drive a person mad. It's better to know something that makes sense." She crossed her long legs elegantly.

"Besides," she said, "no one will believe you anyway."

* * *

Catherine was put into a car with the briefcase and taken away. Sir Integra Hellsing watched from a window, her cigar pluming smoke from the corner of her mouth, as the SUV drove through Hellsing Manor's gates. She thought back to the conversation she had had with Alucard behind Lolly's.

"You lost control," she had said to the vampire. "Why?"

Alucard looked at her, his face and neck stained with the girl's blood. He didn't answer.

Integra took a step forward, her eyes sparking with anger. "Answer me, servant!"

"She is a Bride," he said, and Integra tried to keep the surprise from her face. This was not something she had ever expected to deal with. Sure, he had seeked out Brides in the past, but he wouldn't do this again. He wouldn't go after this girl like he did Mina Harker… Would he?

"Alucard," she said, leveling her voice as best she could, "this is a different time. Things have changed. You must forget about this, let the past rest. Do you understand, my servant?"

The vampire's eyes darkened, with anger or sorrow Integra wasn't sure, then he bowed deeply. "Yes, my master," he said.

Now, as Integra watched the car disappearing down the long road in the distance, she wondered if Alucard would be able to obey her orders, and what she would have to do if he could not.

* * *

Deep below, in Hellsing Manor's basement, Alucard sat in his chair. The girl's blood had crusted and turned dark on his skin, but he didn't wash it away. Instead, he breathed deeply, taking as much of her scent as he could from the dry blood. Sweet virgin blood. The scent would fade soon, and the idea threatened to drive him mad. He wanted more. He _needed_ more.

His long fingers squeezed the chair's arms until they splintered. He stood abruptly, grabbed the solid oak chair, and hefted it above his head. The huge, heavy piece of furniture that would have taken three men to carry smashed to pieces against the stone floor as though it were made of twigs. He snatched up the table then, and hurled it violently against the wall twenty feet away; it crashed with so much force that it exploded to splintered chunks.

With nothing left to destroy, Alucard fell to his knees and began dragging his fingers in long grooves along the floor, his teeth grinding together and his eyes flaring. The stone yielded under his fury, and soon the gouges were nine inches deep. He stopped then and stared for a long time at the ruts he'd made. His self-control eventually returned, and his blood cooled. Integra had told him to let the past rest, but she didn't understand.

That girl was living here, in this time, _for him._

Alucard slowly went to his coffin, like a man in a dream, and climbed into it, sealing himself in with the girl's scent. He stared up at the lid in the blackness and replayed in his mind her clutching his hair in her little fist, her panting, her grinding against him, the ecstasy of feeding from her, over and over again. He imagined stripping the clothes off of her, running his hands over her smooth flesh. He would feed from her wherever he wanted: her white neck, her slender wrists, the soft swell of her breast. And when the courtship was over he would truly have her, this girl who was made to serve him, from now until the last day.

The No-Life King's lips parted, and he breathed her name in the darkness:

"Catherine."

* * *

**7.13.14**

**Response to Krazyfanfiction1's review, which should be helpful to everyone:**

Not reincarnation. Just a figure of speech, since Dracula ruthlessly pursued Mina Harker (Mina Murray) to make her a Bride.

I would recommend watching "Dracula" with Gary Oldman to get a better picture of what's going on here. This fanfic relies heavily on Bram Stoker's universe, just as Kohta Hirano stated Hellsing's does. As Hirano doesn't expound much on this particular bit of Dracula's history and the information behind it, we're left using Stoker as our last reference concerning Brides, and even that requires a bit of extra ingenuity since the only reason Dracula pursued Mina was because he thought that she was the reincarnation of his long-dead wife, Elisabeta. Pop-culture has pieced together an explanation for the other Brides and why there were only three, and that's that Bride blood is special compared to just any blood.

As for being without a Bride... It seems that they're so rare that it hasn't been a problem for over 100 years; the last possible Bride that Dracula desired was Mina. Bram Stoker's Dracula doesn't sense Brides from long distances, but rather he has to get up close and personal with one to... I don't know, smell her blood or something. Or in this case, taste it too.


	4. Chapter 4

'And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.'

(Matthew 6:13)

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Catherine's eyes fluttered open as a loud _thud_ woke her, followed by muffled yelling. Her alarm clock read 1:24 PM, and she groaned inwardly. When had she ever slept this late? She sat up, then lay back down as nausea gripped her. Her head hurt, and she needed some water.

Carefully, she levered herself up again and pulled the sweaty bed sheets back. Her skin was damp and clammy, and when she turned her head to the side a sharp pain startled her. She reached up and felt something taped onto the skin, like a bandage. She went into the bathroom and was shocked by what she saw in the mirror.

She looked horrible.

Catherine pulled her stuck, bloodstained shirt away from her chest, wincing as the crusted material tugged at her skin; it pulled away with a sound very much like Velcro separating. Next, she turned her attention to the big bandage on the side of her neck. Now that she was up and moving, the spot under it throbbed hotly. She pulled the half-unstuck tape from her skin and lifted it; two deep rows of tooth marks, like an animal's, shown red and swollen there.

'_So full, so rich…' _

_Please, yes…_

Last night hit her in a rush. She remembered the monster that had attacked Lolly's, then she remembered Marlena, Eddie, the tall man, the ashes, the bite, the woman, the officers, the car ride, the transfusion, the explanation, the money. A crush of emotion overwhelmed her at this, and she sank down onto the bathmat, her sneakers squeaking on the laminate floor. Her chest tightened as her eyes squeezed shut and her lips drew open, and for several seconds she couldn't breathe or make a sound. She sucked in deeply.

Then it all came out in a long wail.

Catherine put her hands to the sides of her head and sobbed so hard that her throat went raw. After several minutes of this, her medicine cabinet mirror rattled as a fist banged on the other side of the cheap plaster wall.

"Shut the fuck up!" came a muffled male voice.

The sound sobered Catherine up a little, but the tears kept flowing. She looked at her hands and saw that her fingernails were caked black with blood. The next wave of nausea brought her back completely from the dark thoughts of last night. She gathered herself enough to stand slowly and turn on the shower.

Blood crusts flaked to the floor as she stripped off her shirt carefully, so as not to rub the bite wound, then her pants, socks, and sneakers that she'd slept in. When she was wearing only her underwear, she looked into the mirror again and touched her ribs gingerly; there were five pinpointed bruises there, each the size of a quarter. The purple-ish spots were arranged in the shape of a grasping hand, and for a brief moment Catherine thought that she could feel the pressure of those fingers in her flesh again.

The shower was turned up as hot as she could stand when she stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain. The bandage on her neck had lost its stickiness, and so she held it in place with one hand as she scrubbed herself clean with the other. Diluted blood, now the color of red Kool-Aid, swirled down the drain. It took almost twenty minutes for the water to run clear. Then, when she had scoured the dried blood away completely, and perhaps the first layer of her skin, she stepped out of the shower and stopped the drain. She let the tub fill partially and took a brush to her caked nails until her fingers were pink and raw.

With the tub drained, Catherine leaned on the side of it for a while; the cool enameled steel felt good against her flushed skin. She stood again and toweled herself off, then took another look in the mirror. Her cheeks were rosy from the hot water, but the rest of her skin was wan-looking. The purple crescents under her eyes were darker than ever before, and even her lips looked ghostly.

So much for that transfusion.

Over the next few days, Catherine left her apartment only once to buy antiseptic and bandages for the bite. She ate little and slept a lot, but each day she felt better. The briefcase that Hellsing's Director had given her was pushed beneath her bed and left closed, and the clothing Catherine had been wearing on the night of the attack was stuffed into a garbage bag and dropped out of her window into the dumpster below.

As she watched the bag fall the three stories and _thump_ into the trash, she didn't notice the piece of paper that was stuck to the upper pane of her window. It fluttered gently as she brought the sash down and went back to her bedroom to take another nap.

* * *

"I worry it won't be enough," Integra said. She touched her cigar box, but didn't open it. She sat at her desk in her private study, and so her cravat was loosened and her cuffs unbuttoned.

The man she was speaking to set the tea tray down in front of her and began to pour and stir. He said nothing, waiting for Integra to finish speaking her mind. She continued:

"I understand him, but I don't, Walter. It's as though he's two separate individuals, the Alucard from now and…"

"Dracula," Walter finished for her. He lay the silver sugar tongs down and looked at her. "I'm afraid, madame, that you sometimes mistake Alucard for a 'man' who has mended his ways."

Integra pulled her teacup toward her. She watched the steam rise off of the amber liquid. "I know he isn't a man. I know what he is."

"This occurrence still surprises you."

"This sort of thing isn't him anymore," Integra said, her blond brows knitting together. She left the tea, drew a cigar out of the box, and lit it. "That part of his history is _done with._"

Walter was quiet for a moment. "Would it really be so bad for him to have her?" he said finally, softly.

Integra's mouth opened a little as she stared at the butler in stunned silence. She leaned forward in her leather chair, disbelief making her eyes wide. "This is a girl's life, her soul!" she said, her voice rising. "How could you say something like that?"

Walter didn't explain his thoughts to her. He believed very much the same thing that he knew Alucard did, that this girl was special and that fate simply couldn't be prevented, but this was not what Integra wanted to hear. And so, Walter bowed slightly at the waist and said something more acceptable to her:

"My apologies, madame. I was merely considering that the girl might choose him of her own free will, if Alucard would allow her."

Integra gave a tight, mirthless smile as she watched her cigar's smoke thread up and disappear into the dark ceiling. "Now, you know that that simply isn't his _style, _Walter."

* * *

_Tap tap tap._

Catherine lay on her couch beneath a quilt as the TV played colors across the dark living room in silence. She had fallen asleep here hours ago trying to immerse herself in British comedy shows, but the humor was simply too dry. Church, her adopted cat, lay curled up in the bend of her knees. When she had first come home the animal had made himself virtually invisible around the apartment, refusing to come to her when she called him and even when she shook his food bowl. Slowly, though, he was warming back up to her.

_Tap tap._

She opened her eyes a little, scratched her arm, and snuggled back down. Her lids were just beginning to droop closed again when she heard a scratching sound. She sat up abruptly and looked down at the floor, fearfully expecting to see more rats (she had adopted Church for a reason). There were none this time, though. The sound continued, moving around the apartment, and she could almost follow it with her eyes.

Church jumped down and darted into the kitchen as Catherine stood up. Wrapping the quilt around herself, she stepped cautiously over to a side table lamp. She turned it on, expecting to see something that had been hiding in the shadows, but the lamp lit the room well and she could see nothing. Where was that sound coming from? It kept moving, and Catherine stepped up close to the wall to follow it. _Are they in the walls now?_ she thought in disgust. From the kitchen Church meowed, and she shushed him; the landlord didn't know she had a cat, and she certainly couldn't afford the pet fee if he found out.

She walked with the sound to her bedroom, and everything went quiet save for Church's meowing. Catherine reached in to flip the light switch on before stepping inside, and when she did she found herself surveying nothing out of the ordinary: a small dresser that contained the little clothing she owned, her bed with the sheets all rumpled up, a nightstand on which sat the empty bottle of antiseptic.

_Scritch scritch. _

Catherine moved around her bedroom, half-expecting something to pop out from the bathroom. She quietly pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and pulled her pepper spray from it. In the kitchen, Church meowed away. She stepped slowly toward the bathroom door. Her hand had almost reached the doorknob when she heard it clearly, coming from her window.

_Tap. Tap tap tap. _

"Catherine."

She whipped around and pointed the spray with both hands, but the window was closed. It took her a moment to see it clearly, and when she did she wasn't sure if she was much more ill than she had thought; there was a face in her window. A shock of black hair drifted around it with the wind outside, and the two fiery orbs that served as its eyes gleamed brightly at her. The girl watched the lips on the face part as it said her name again:

"Catherine… Open the window." Deep and gravelly came the voice, its tone both dark and inviting. She took a step toward the face, and its lips pulled into a wide smile. "Yes," it said soothingly, "be a good girl and open the window for me."

Catherine didn't remember walking all the way across the room, or slipping her fingers under the sash and drawing it up, but what was done was done. She moved back, her mind hazy as one long arm reached in, then the other. The slender gloved fingers gripped either side of the opening, and a black boot perched itself on the sill as he ducked his head inside. The movements were so unnaturally graceful that Catherine could only stare as the man climbed fully through her window and settled his feet on the ground. For the first time, she was able to truly _look_ at him.

His skin was white, even whiter than her own, with the slightest grayish hue. But what made her breath hitch was how unnaturally smooth it looked, like carved marble. He was not wearing the hat she had seen him wearing at Lolly's, and his black mass of hair gleamed too much in the light, reflected too many shades until it all looked like raven feathers. The only things about him that were vaguely human were the light dustings of shadow beneath his lower lids. His eyes deepened to the color of dark wine as he watched her take him in.

He stepped toward her, yielding some of his influence over her to see how she would react on her own. The red-tinged fog cleared from her eyes and she blinked about her. Her gaze settled on him again and her lips parted. Her chest swelled suddenly.

Alucard darted after her as she screamed and ran from the room, the quilt flying back into his face as she threw it at him. He batted the patchwork thing aside and gave chase into the tiny living room where the girl snatched up her TV remote and hurled that at him too; it struck his chest hard, but he felt no pain. Seeing him unfazed, Catherine ripped for the kitchen door, all the while snatching up miscellaneous things to pelt him with.

"Ha… hahahaha…"

The vampire grinned broadly at the tissue box she'd missed him with, his lips drawn up impossibly far; the expression was inhuman, a ghastly smile on a white mask. He looked at her again, his eyes flaring with amusement at this cute game she was playing with him.

Catherine's fingertips were on the doorknob when she felt the lock click. She twisted it hard, but it wouldn't budge. Slow footsteps behind her; she didn't turn around to look, instead fumbling the turn lock with sweaty fingers, but it wouldn't move either. She screamed, banging on the door with both fists. _"HELP!"_

"No one can hear you."

Gloved fingers brushed the back of her neck, and her screams jumped an octave.

There was a horrible yowling suddenly from beneath the card table against the wall. The fingers left Catherine's neck as the vampire behind her made a disgusted sound. She whirled to see Church leap at his legs, claws extended. The cat sunk into one leg and tore up toward the vampire's face, hissing and spitting. Catherine took the opportunity to dart around them both, a silent thank you to Church flitting through her mind as she ran out of the kitchen and through the living room.

The dumpster was below her bedroom window. It was a long fall, and she would surely break something, but it was her best chance. There was a slamming sound, and Church's hissing and screeching became muffled. Footsteps darting toward her now, moving too fast to be human. Catherine shrieked and grabbed hold of the window sill, heaving herself up to dive out.

A cold vice closed on her ankle when she was halfway out, and she howled in terror and pain. She was being drawn back inside now, and her hands scrabbled at everything, trying to grab hold. Long fingers grasped the back of her neck, and when she struggled to break the hold they gave a brief warning squeeze; she choked and sputtered from the simple action.

He had drawn her completely inside now, but her hands still clutched at the window. Her fingers hooked the bottom of the lower sash, and as she was pulled sharply away from it the sash came unlocked and fell closed with a sharp _crack_.

Alucard sucked in an audible breath as he held the squirming Catherine. She had resealed the barrier by closing the window, and he was locked inside her apartment now. A quick attempt to still the girl with his powers made his lip curl in contempt; the barrier prevented his black magic from being used inside of it, too.

Catherine wriggled hard in his grip, kicking with her socked feet, her yells muffled in the arm of his coat. He almost sighed inwardly; this was going to be far less romantic without hypnotism. A sudden pressure on his forearm made him look down; she was biting him through the fabric, squeezing down as hard as she could with her blunt little teeth. The action itself and the sweet fury in her expression were too much, and he burst out laughing.

"That's right!" he crowed. "That's right, my little warrior!" He laughed harder when she redoubled her efforts, thrashing her head from side to side like an animal with a piece of meat; the glass rattled with the reverberation of his mirth.

He goaded her on for almost a full minute, alternately praising her efforts and taunting her. When the pressure on his skin stopped, he rested his cold cheek against her hair. "Would you like me to find a rock for you to bash me with?" Her head remained bowed, her face resting against his arm. Alucard turned her around in his arms. "Have you given up already-" he began to say.

Catherine slashed her hooked fingers across his face, her nails scoring the flesh right below his eye and one side of his nose. She shoved back fiercely from him then, hoping that his grip would loosen with the surprise attack, but he held fast to her.

And he was no longer smiling.

A gloved hand flashed up and grabbed her face, forcing her to look up at him. Catherine felt her pulse accelerate, the heat of adrenaline fear heating her veins as he leaned down so close that his nose almost touched hers. "Watch," he commanded, his eyes bright with anger. His pupils were slits. Catherine struggled feebly as a drop of blood trickled down his cheek and threatened to drip onto her face. The trickle welled up and glinted like a little ruby, right at the sharp edge of his jaw, and then it fell. She scrunched her face up, her eyes squeezed shut as she waited for the spatter, but it never came. The little ruby was suspended mid-drop between their faces for a moment, and then it slowly elongated up and into a rivulet.

The blood that Catherine had drawn from him was seeping back up into the wounds, and the wounds themselves were sealing. The skin closed up, and for a second she only saw shiny scars where the gashes had been, and then the scars faded to nothing. Once again, his face was a perfectly smooth white mask.

"You can't hurt me," he told her. "Do you understand?" When she only stared, he gave her a sharp, violent shake. "Answer me, mortal!"

"I understand," she gasped out, but her mind was still struggling to grasp the unnatural display that had just taken place.

He looked at her very seriously for a moment, and then his expression softened. His grip loosened on her, and Catherine realized that she was resting fully against him, her feet barely touching the floor. His long arm was still crooked securely around her. She was suddenly painfully aware that she wore only a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. Her skin broke out in goose bumps as he caressed her clammy cheek with the side of his hand.

"It was a very good try," he said, and his lips curved into the slightest smile, "but I've grown tired of your games." He slid his fingers up through her hairline and gently, but firmly, clasped a handful of her hair. Catherine whimpered as he pulled her head to the side. "Pull your shirt away," he told her, and when she didn't obey, his entwined fingers threatened to rip that chunk of hair right out of her head.

With shaking fingers, Catherine reached up and grasped the neck of her t-shirt. She saw his eyes get impossibly wide when she didn't pull it down right away, and just when his pupils were tiny slits again she pulled the material back and bared her neck to him. She could have sworn that he gasped softly.

He ran his eyes over the white curve of her throat, and saliva gushed into his mouth. _Beautiful. _The mark he'd left on her had almost healed away, and he felt a profound desire to leave another one. His lips parted, and he ran his tongue over her skin, from her clavicle up to her jaw. She shivered. "Mine," he whispered against her throat. He could feel the quick pulse of her blood against his lips.

Catherine stared wide-eyed at the ceiling as he stroked and kissed and lapped at her throat with that cold tongue. He held her firmly still, but the touch was not aggressive or painful, and the attention he was giving her skin could almost be called tender. She went rigid when she felt his teeth nip her lightly. He laughed softly, and she could feel him grinning against her skin.

"You wanted this last time," he said. "You writhed against me like a snake and begged for more. I want you to beg again." Catherine's face burned with embarrassment at the memory, and he let out a small "Aaah" as though he could feel her skin heat. "You remember it all, don't you?" he crooned. "You remember that _exquisite _pleasure." Her cheeks flushed so badly they turned almost beetroot.

"Let me give that pleasure to you again," he whispered.

His teeth sunk into her flesh.

Catherine's hands latched onto his shoulders as she gasped. There was a split second of pain, then pure pressure, and then the heat began. She gaped open-mouthed at the ceiling, her fingers twisting in his coat. The blaze was already building, stoking itself up in her chest and abdomen and threatening to make her cry out. Sound seemed to fade out altogether, and the ceiling light danced bright jewels of color in front of her eyes. She was no longer here; the vampire was drawing all of her out, and leaving only pleasure. The arm around her waist squeezed, and she could only take in breath in little gasps. She grabbed hold of his head in a bid to pull him closer, her fists clutching at the raven hair. A pleasured growl rumbled against her skin as she tugged, and suddenly the pressure released.

Alucard pulled her face down and crushed his mouth to hers. _This_ was more like it.

Catherine was aware that his lips were covered in her blood, but she didn't take notice until he grabbed her face with both hands and forced his tongue into her mouth. The cold intrusion and coppery taste racked her body with chills. His mouth opened wide for her, and she understood what he wanted. Hesitantly, she pushed her tongue past his lips to taste her blood, and his tongue washed the hot liquid over hers. One of his hands held the back of her head now, and she let out a little sound when the fingers squeezed too hard in excitement.

Alucard withdrew from her and swept her up in his arms. Catherine blinked dazedly as he lay her down on the bed, and her lips were the loveliest ruby color he'd ever seen. He reached up to the light fixture and pinched the bulb, neatly breaking the glass and dousing the room in shadow.

The small bed dipped as Alucard leaned over her, his hands and knees resting on either side of her body. Catherine reached up to him, her eyes dreamily looking at nothing. _Green eyes_, he took note as he gently captured her small hand in his. He turned her arm over and pressed a cold kiss to it.

The girl moaned when he bit her wrist; he had to have more of her, more of this blood. He could hear her heart and knew that it was beating quickly now, much quicker than it should; he had taken too much already, but he couldn't fathom stopping.

_Ruby honey,_ came the hazy thought as he drank. He was in as much of a daze as the girl. He sucked at the wound, draining and draining her.

"Alucard."

… _Integra?_ It took a moment, but the vampire pulled his mouth from the girl's wrist and focused. Yes, the Master was calling him. He looked down at Catherine and saw that her eyes were fluttering shut. He gave her a brief shake and said her name; he needed her to stay awake, to open the window for him.

"Catherine," he said louder when she didn't respond. Her lids opened slightly, and she gave him a moony smile. "Come, stand up." He climbed off of the bed and helped her upright, but she wobbled dangerously when he let go of her. Irritation and slight worry that he was trapped here nagged him, and Alucard snatched the girl up to carry her over to the window.

"Open it," he told her. "Catherine, open the window." She blinked to where he pointed, his finger just out of range of the humming energy that he knew would snap his hand away if he touched the window while it was closed. Catherine reached out and put her hands on the sash. She tugged weakly, and it didn't move. Alucard gritted his teeth in frustration.

"I'm sorry," she sighed sleepily. "I'm so tired." He had drunk far too much from her.

"Try again!" he demanded. The volume and angry tone snapped her awake, if only for a moment. She put her fingers under the sash and pulled again, groaning with the effort. After a few seconds, it edged up an inch; the barrier was broken.

Alucard pulled her away from the window and threw the sash upward so hard that it jammed and splintered at the top. Catherine muttered incoherently into his chest, and he realized that he couldn't leave her here; she needed medical attention, and quickly. Gathering her pliant little limbs up tightly in his arms, he doubled over and stepped up onto the sill. She was already unconscious when he leapt out into the dark.

Catherine wouldn't wake until hours later, when she was inside of Hellsing Mansion with another cannula in her arm.


	5. Chapter 5

'Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.'

(Matthew 26:41)

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"… a little over two litres. Some minor bruising."

"She'll recover, though."

"Weakness is to be expected for a while, but yes. Ah, here she is."

Two figures faded into view. They were standing over her, but she couldn't focus on their faces. She tried to sit up.

"Oh, no no no, dear." A pair of hands pushed her gently back against the pillows. "You need to rest, okay? Catherine? Can you hear me?" The voice was not one she recognized.

"Where am I?" she said. Catherine tried to twist her head to look around, and the hands stopped her again.

"Shh shh, you need to not turn your head; you'll pull the bandage off. Just lie still. Would you like some water?"

Her lips hurt when she moved them. "Yes. Where am I?"

"Hellsing Mansion," said a woman's voice, and Catherine flicked her blurred gaze to the remaining figure as the other moved away. She could make out long, pale hair and a blue suit.

Integra continued: "You're lucky I called for him when I did, or he would have drained you dry. Why the hell did you let him in?"

Catherine frowned up at her. "Who?"

Integra looked into the girl's unfocused eyes and shook her head. "Go back to sleep," she told her. "I'll return in a few hours. We'll talk then."

Catherine felt herself drifting off again as the Director walked away.

* * *

Hours later, Alucard watched from the shadows as Walter approach the bedroom door, balancing a silver tea tray expertly on one hand; the tray was an elaborate one with scalloped edges that Alucard hadn't seen Walter use in years. Holding the pretty thing high, the aged butler gave the door a courteous knock before pulling it open, and for a brief moment Alucard was allowed a glimpse of Catherine lying in bed, her dark hair splayed out across the pillows. She sat up weakly as Walter pulled the door closed behind him, and then she was gone.

Inside the room, Catherine did her best to sit up straight and greet the man with the tea. He was tall and thin, with deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. His hair was held back by a thin red ribbon, and a monocle glinted over his right eye. When he saw Catherine struggling to sit up, he all but rushed to fluff a new pillow and ease it behind her head.

She thanked him and settled back down, a little surprised at his quickness; he had to be seventy years old, but he certainly didn't move like it. As the man turned back to the tea tray, Catherine reached up and realized that her hair was a snarled mess. Embarrassed, she quickly combed it with her fingers.

"Oh, don't fret over that, Miss Catherine," the man said as he came over and placed a folding breakfast table on her lap. He brought over the tea tray and set it almost proudly on the table. "I hope you don't mind your tea without sugar." His thin lips smiled kindly. "Doctor's orders."

"Thank you," she said again, smiling at what a perfect image he cut of the British butler. She picked up the tea carefully, her hands shaking a little as she sipped at it. It was strong, and the bitterness caught her off-guard; she winced.

"It isn't particularly my favorite," the man said apologetically, "but it will do you some good. I also brought some dried fruit if you're up to eating a little something."

Catherine's stomach churned a little at the thought of food. Regardless, she pulled the little bowl over and looked into it. She selected a small piece and held it up for inspection.

"Figs, believe it or not. They might not be pretty anymore, but they're as sweet as any candy."

She smiled at the man again and put the fig back. "Maybe later," she told him, and he nodded in understanding. Her gaze drifted behind the man then, surveying the room for the first time. Faded tapestries hung on the walls alongside painted portraits and landscapes. A painting longer than Catherine was tall hung next to the enormous double-window, displaying nymphs twirling a pagan dance beneath a waterfall. Catherine's eyes moved over the mahogany floors, crystal chandeliers, vaulted ceiling, imported rugs, marble-topped tables, and then finally over the enormous canopy bed she lay in. Her fingers smoothed the silk sheets. She looked at the man.

"How did I get here? And when?"

"Alucard brought you here, Miss. Only a few hours ago."

_That name_. She remembered now. Behind Lolly's, the woman had said that name. A vision of the tall man in the red coat came vividly to her then, and Catherine's stomach churned again. She readjusted herself against the pillows, wincing when she bumped the cannula in her arm. Her eyes trailed up the blood drip to the suspended bag. The man followed her gaze.

"You'll be just fine," he said, a reassuring smile on his lips. Catherine smiled tiredly back at him; she liked this guy. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled a silver something from it, placing it on the table beside her bed. It was a tiny service bell. "Should you require anything, Miss Catherine, simply give it a ring," he told her, "and I will come to you immediately. My name is Walter."

"Thank you, Mister Walter."

The man bowed so elegantly that Catherine stared. He looked up at her. "Just Walter, Miss," he said, his grey eyes sparkling. "Would you like me to bring the tray back later, perhaps after you've had some more rest?"

"Yes, please," Catherine said, and Walter gathered it all up as quickly as he'd set it out. Catherine watched his precise, graceful movements and thought that he moved very much like a man more than half his age.

After being assured once more that he didn't need to fetch her another blanket or softer pillows, Walter started for the door. When he reached it, though, he stopped. He looked over his shoulder.

"Just between you and I, Miss Catherine," he said, "I don't believe he ever meant to harm you." Catherine watched him flip light switch off and slip silently out the door. She was perfectly confused.

In the hall, Walter let the tray bounce lightly with his step. _How interesting,_ he thought. A second before he rounded the corner, he saw the shadows near the bedroom door shift slightly. The gentleman smiled to himself and kept walking.

Catherine watched raindrops pelt the window erratically as a storm brewed outside. Her stomach was slowly settling. She tried to remember exactly what had happened before she had arrived here, but her memory was hazy. All that she could recall was the white face, Alucard's face, that had appeared in her window, and then the city lights dazzling far, far below her. How had that last bit happened? Why couldn't she remember everything? And what the hell had Walter meant just a moment ago? The rain drummed harder on the glass, and she found herself struggling to stay awake. She snuggled deeper into the silk sheets, resolving to worry about everything later.

* * *

She was asleep again.

The shadow slinked along the wood floor like a mass of snakes, writhing this way and that as it slithered toward the bed. Lightning flashed through the tall ornate windows, but the shadow did not disappear with it.

The dark shape stopped several inches from the bedside, then it began to twist upward. The shadow mass grew over six feet tall, and then it leaned over the bed. Catherine stirred in her sleep as one of the shadow's wisp-like tendrils flicked along her cheek; she flexed her fingers a little, then went still again. The shadow shuddered, and then it began to swirl gently around itself like a tornado. Inside of the dark, swirling mass, a figure began to take shape. A gloved hand reached out.

Alucard leaned down close to the girl, gently stroking her hair. His long fingers brushed the deep circles beneath her eyes, her cheek, and then down to the corner of her mouth. A feeling almost like contrition stirred in him when he touched her bruised lips, but it was quickly banished with the desire to kiss them again. He brought his face to hers, his eyes deepening to that wine color as he carefully slid his fingers into her hair. His cold lips parted, and he softly, carefully, touched them to hers. Catherine shifted in her sleep, but when Alucard opened his eyes he saw that hers were still closed. Her mouth moved against his slightly.

She was kissing him back.

His lips drew into a smirk, but it was quickly stolen away when the girl's mouth moved again, this time more forcefully. It pleased him that he hadn't had to use his powers for a response like this, but he didn't dwell on that for too long. Cupping her face in both of his hands, he kissed her harder and harder until she made a pained sound. Humans were such delicate creatures.

Alucard grunted in surprise when he felt her bite at his lower lip. The desire to dominate gripped him, and he parted the girl's insistent lips with his tongue. Then, turning her lower lip out a little, he bit the inside of it just hard enough to make her whimper again. She began to bleed, and the vampire stroked the inside of her mouth hotly, trying to capture as much of the liquid as he could. He felt a warm little hand against his cheek, and he realized she was trying to clutch at his hair. He took the hand in his own and guided it gently up to the black tresses, and the fingers grasped hold there.

The wound in her mouth quickly stopped bleeding enough to satisfy him, and he pulled away. His face turned to the arm beside him, the one she was using to hold onto his hair. Without thinking, he took hold of it and began to suck on the skin. Catherine reached up with her other hand to touch his face, and he found himself more drawn to that arm than the other; the blood scent was heavier. He grasped the other soft limb with both hands and drew his tongue along it. His teeth tingled almost painfully in anticipation, and then his tongue brushed something at the bend of her arm. Alucard opened his eyes.

The cannula was still there, pulsating almost imperceptibly with her heartbeat. Trying to push through his desire to feed from her, Alucard looked closely at the girl's face.

Her skin had a sickly, pallid look to it, no longer the lovely porcelain color he was so fond of. Sweat beaded on her feverish brow, and the waves of dark hair that framed her face looked like a mourning shroud. Her lips, bloodless and chapped, were splotched an ugly purple-green. When she reached out to him again, he saw her muscles tremble at the simple action.

Alucard moved out of her reach, detaching the fingers that struggled weakly to remain curled in his hair. He stood beside her bed then, watching her beseech the air in front of her with her feeble little arms. She coughed, and a little of the blood he'd drawn from her trickled from the corner of her mouth.

Contempt struck him suddenly, and he left her there to clutch at nothing with her ghostly fingers.

* * *

Catherine awoke once more to a pinching sensation in her arm. She opened her eyes to see an older man pressing a wet cotton ball to the place where she'd felt the pinch. The man's mouth was hidden by an enormous gray moustache, as if all of the hair that had once been on his now-bald head had relocated further down, and a tiny pair of spectacles was perched precariously on his bulbous nose. His belly was so pudgy that it rubbed the edge of the sheets while he taped the cotton ball to her arm.

"Am I all better?"

The man started when Catherine spoke, knocking his little tray of instruments and the silver service bell onto the floor. He leaned on the table for a moment, his hand over the left side of his chest. Catherine tried not to smile as he straightened up, his round cheeks puffed indignantly.

"Your transfusion is finished, but you have a lot of recovery ahead of you," he said, straining to bend down and collect his things.

"How long?" Catherine asked, her smile surfacing as she watched him. "Can I get out of bed soon?"

The man rested his hands on his knees and looked at her. His face was red from the exertion of bending down, and his suspenders looked fit to snap. "You need to stay where you are," he said, "for at least twenty-four hours. Forty-eight is preferable, more even, for someone who's lost as much blood as you."

Catherine sank back into the pillows despondently. _Forty-eight hours? More?_ Twenty-four barely seemed manageable. As she considered the awful idea of lying in bed for two days, she pressed her tongue gingerly against a sore spot on the inside of her lip. Had she bitten herself in her sleep?

"I have some iron supplements here," the man said, huffing and setting the gathered instruments down. "You are to take two capsules per day until the bottle is empty. There's also a Tylenol capsule here. I recommend drinking only water or tea for the next week; absolutely no alcohol. If you must get out of bed, don't exert yourself in any way…"

He prattled on like that for a while longer, listing dos and don'ts as he packed his instruments away in a bulky doctor's bag. His fussy manner had Catherine grinning behind her hand despite her fever and lightheadedness.

"… and if any of those symptoms appear, have Walter call for me immediately. I only live twenty minutes away. All right? All right." He waddled for the door without waiting for her to respond.

As he reached for the doorknob, the door opened itself. Walter stepped inside and held it open for the man as he left. All that passed between them was a slight nod of the head. When he was gone, Walter closed the door and smiled almost sympathetically at the girl.

"You'll have to forgive Dr. Sommers," he said as he walked over. "He very much likes the sound of his own voice."

Catherine let out the little laugh that had been building since the doctor had begun fussing. "He seems all right," she said, still smiling. "He took that awful thing out of my arm, so I'm grateful for him."

Walter leaned down and scooped the service bell off the ornate rug. He gave a little huff of indignation to find it in such a state and polished the thing with his sleeve. "I suppose you didn't actually call me, then." The girl smiled apologetically and told him what had happened. Walter closed his eyes, his arched eyebrows bowing into a pitying expression. "This doesn't surprise me." He set the bell back on the table, close to Catherine. "Sir Integra will be here shortly. If you don't feel well enough to see her, I can convey the message."

Catherine didn't feel well, but it seemed rude to deny the visit, especially in the woman's own house. "It's no problem," she told him. Her fingers absently combed through her hair again.

Walter saw her do this, and he went over to a tall oak vanity against the wall. Catherine watched him produce a hairbrush from its drawer and bring it over.

"Thank you," she said warmly. She really liked this guy. Brushing at the tangles in her hair, a disturbing thought suddenly occurred to her. "Walter," she said, "where are all of these medical bills going to?"

The gentleman heard the note of worry in her voice. He had seen her apartment too, when the holy seals had been placed around it, and he understood her trepidation. "There are no bills, Miss Catherine. We've taken care of everything."

"Really?"

"Of course," he said, smiling that kind smile again.

Catherine went back to brushing her hair. "I know that the doctor wants me to stay in bed, but I really can't do that. I need to go home and make sure my cat is okay. I don't really remember what happened last night, but I'm pretty sure his food bowl is empty."

Walter shook his head. "No, madame, you need to stay right where you are. I'll send someone at once to take care of the cat, but you must understand that your body needs to rest." Catherine mumbled an "all right," seeing that she wasn't getting out of the bed rest, no matter what.

There was a swift knock at the door, and then it swung open. Integra strode inside, her champagne hair billowing out behind her. "Miss Catherine," she said, her voice as flat as ever.

Walter moved away from the bedside as Integra approached, to Catherine's chagrin. It wasn't that she disliked the woman; she simply found Walter's presence comforting, and Integra did have a certain seriousness to her at the moment that put Catherine a little on edge. The door closed behind Walter, and the two women were left alone.

Integra took a seat in the chair beside the bed. "How are you feeling?" she asked, but the question felt like it was strictly being asked out of decorum. Catherine wondered if Integra was angry at her.

"I feel much better than earlier," Catherine said. "Look, I just want to thank you for all of this-"

"He's a monster."

Catherine blinked. "Excuse me?"

Integra pulled a cigar out of her blazer, but didn't light it. "Despite his appearance, Alucard is not human. At least, not anymore."

"Um… he's a vampire, right?"

Annoyance flashed through the Director's pale eyes. "He isn't _just _a vampire. He is _the _vampire. The first. I trust you recognize the name Dracula?"

_Alucard... Dracula… For the love of Christ. How had she not realized that?_

"I do recognize it," Catherine responded weakly.

"And you're familiar with Dracula's true name-"

"Vlad Tepes…"

"Vlad Tepes III," Integra corrected. "Vlad _the Impaler_."

Catherine wasn't sure how to respond. She felt a little faint now, her skin too warm, the air too thick. Integra continued as though she didn't notice the girl's now-sallow complexion, rolling her cigar neatly between her gloved fingers:

"He almost killed you last night. Do you remember?" Catherine shook her head, and Integra leaned forward in her chair. Her eyes glinted behind the round glasses. "He came to your apartment and fed from you until you were unconscious. If I had called him a minute later than I had, we wouldn't be having this conversation now."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why did he do that?"

Integra leaned back and touched the cigar to her lips. "He's inexplicably drawn to you," she said, her voice almost thoughtful, "like a moth to a flame. It's reasonable to think that it's your blood that pulls him, your scent. Whatever the reason, it's clear that nothing I say or do will keep him away from you."

"What does that mean?" Catherine asked, her voice rising a little in fear. "He's just going to keep coming to my apartment at night to suck my blood until I die?"

Integra waved her cigar as though to dispel the idea. "Calm yourself," she chided. "He won't go to your apartment anymore..."

Catherine relaxed a little.

"… because you're staying here."


	6. Chapter 6

A chapter 6 was uploaded earlier, but I took it down. This is a brand new one.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Catherine felt herself grinning. The Director's statement had caught her entirely off-guard, and the absurdity of it was almost funny: _you're staying here_. When Integra's face remained stony, however, Catherine's smile slipped away.

"We'll have your things collected and brought here immediately," Integra said then. "You may keep this room."

Catherine sat up very straight, disturbed by the finality of the statement. She opened her mouth to argue, but Integra interrupted.

"There is nothing else to be done," she said, her tone all practicality. "I cannot keep him away, and nothing will protect you from him. His influence over you is so great that even the holy seals failed. If you go back to your apartment, Alucard will follow you, and there is every chance in the world that he will kill you."

"So I'll go somewhere else-"

Integra cut her off again with an abrupt shake of her head. "There is nowhere you can go. Even if you were to fly back to America, he would follow you. The safest place in the world for you now is here."

But wasn't _he_ here too? How was staying here safe? "No," Catherine said, her voice rising in frustration and fear. "I won't stay here. I want a phone."

Integra gave her an almost pitying look, and anger flushed the girl's face. "You have no other choice," she told her.

"The hell I don't," Catherine snapped. She jerked the covers back from her legs. "This is kidnapping. You're not keeping me here."

Integra stood up, indicating that the conversation was over. "You must understand, this is all for the best."

"Wait!" Catherine called as the Director began walking away. "You can't do this! _Wait!"_ She swung one leg out of bed, trying to ignore how heavy it was and how fatigued dogged her at the effort. She gritted her teeth and pulled her other leg free of the sheets. The Director was opening the door and stepping outside when Catherine finally had both feet on the floor. She tried to stand, but she couldn't summon the strength.

"_You bitch!" _Catherine yelled as the long, pale tresses disappeared behind the closing door. She attempted to stand again, fury granting her enough strength to rise six inches off of the bed, but no more. She sat back down with an exasperated cry, quaking just as hard from the effort as from anger.

* * *

Integra walked quickly down the hall, trying to ignore the girl's screams after her. She hadn't even bothered stopping to lock the door in her haste to leave. This all felt wrong. Catherine was right; this _was_ kidnapping. And if Alucard turned the girl, Integra imagined that that would be slavery, too. Or would it?

When Integra had ordered Alucard to not seek Catherine out, he had outright told her that he could not obey. Integra had been so shocked that her cigar had fallen from her open mouth. It rolled across the desk, leaving a little trail of ash.

"You're refusing an order?" she said, her voice a disbelieving whisper. She watched Alucard dip a slight bow, a courteous gesture that Integra usually found comforting. Suddenly it meant nothing.

"I am not refusing anything," he replied evenly. "Were I able to carry out your orders, my Master, I would."

Integra had never thought to hear those words out of her Servant's mouth. Alucard had to obey her, under the conditions of the deal that her great-grandfather had struck with Dracula over one hundred years ago. At this moment, Integra remembered Walter passing on to her her father's wisdom about the vampire: _'Never forget what he is.'_

For reasons she couldn't rationalize, Integra got angry then. Her chair skidded backward as she stood. "You will obey," she shouted over the desk, "or, I swear before _God_, I will lock you back in that cell!" She hated the words even as they came out of her mouth, but she saw no other choice. She was supposed to protect humanity from vampirism, not advocate it.

Alucard had visibly responded to the threat, his nostrils flaring and his eyes snapping, and then his expression smoothed into something unreadable. "I cannot," he said flatly.

Several long moments passed, and Servant and Master held each other's gazes in steely silence. Integra sank back down into her chair, her legs suddenly weak. She had never fathomed the idea of Alucard becoming a menace to humanity again, of having to lock him away, and yet that seemed to be the only option left to her if he broke their contract. But how many more lives would Integra be putting in danger if she locked down her most powerful and effective weapon against the vampires her organization hunted? Giving the girl to Alucard was a horrible sin in itself, but there was the greater good to consider.

And so Integra forced herself to compromise with the vampire.

She told him that he wasn't allowed to turn the girl, but, infuriatingly enough, Alucard claimed he could not obey that order either. Integra had lit a new cigar by this point to calm her nerves, and it snapped between her fingers at his words. Alucard looked impassively at the two halves of the cigar as they fell onto the desk.

"What order can you obey?" Integra grated out, her voice not reflecting the fear and anxiety she felt. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps this was the end of the contract. He took a step toward the desk, and Integra pulled back in her chair slightly, suddenly apprehensive of the vampire that stood before her.

Alucard carefully picked up the smoldering half of the split cigar. "If you give the order that the girl should not be turned _against her will_," he said, neatly grinding the cigar out in the ash tray, "I will obey."

That had been good enough for Integra.

* * *

She had been kidnapped by an organization of vampire hunters. She was bedbound and recovering from a massive loss of blood at the hands of a vampire that, apparently, nothing could protect her from. Not for the first time since the incident at Lolly's, Catherine wondered if she had lost her goddamn mind.

A phone. She needed to focus on finding a phone. Drawing her thoughts away from whether or not she belonged on a psyche ward, Catherine looked around the room. There wasn't a phone in sight, and she bit her lip.

_Well, shit. _

She sat on the edge of the bed for a long time then, partially because she was lost in thought and partially because she wasn't sure she had the strength to haul herself completely back up into the bed. She couldn't call the police, so that plan was out. Director Bitchface didn't seem to have bothered to lock the door, but simply walking out of here wasn't possible when Catherine couldn't even stand. So, what did that leave?...

"I'm not staying here," she muttered to herself, her brow set darkly in determination. She reached up and grabbed hold of her IV drip stand, her fingers gripping the cold metal hard. They couldn't keep her here. She would get out of this bed and find a phone -they had to have one somewhere- and then she would call the police. Steeling herself, Catherine leaned forward and pushed off of the floor.

Her knees wobbled at first, and for a moment she thought that she would very quickly become better acquainted with the rug. Just as she felt her knees give a heavy warning quake, she snatched hold of the IV stand with her other hand to steady herself. Her weight shifted away from the bed, and Catherine allowed herself a smile when she realized that she could almost stand upright with the aid of the stand. A little practice and she would be up and walking in no time-

The stand jerked away abruptly as Catherine shifted a little more of her weight onto it. She grabbed it up again, being careful to hold more of her weight herself this time. Looking down, she saw that the thing had wheels.

_Bingo._

It took some practice for her to figure out just how much weight she could put on the stand before it rolled away from her, and as she shuffled her way across the room she almost fell twice. Shaking from adrenaline, Catherine reached the door and put her ear up to it. She couldn't hear anything from outside, and so she twisted the doorknob slowly; no resistance. The door swung open with little effort, revealing an empty and dimly lit hallway. Catherine pushed the IV stand in front of her carefully, its wheels bumping up onto a wine-colored runner rug. Her palms were slick with sweat as she set off down the hall.

The stand rolled easily as she pushed it along the rug that ran the length of the dimly lit hallway and beyond. Suits of armor and display cases stood along both walls, holding everything from glittering jewelry to rusted old weapons, but Catherine didn't stop to look. As she went, she was pulling on doorknobs, trying to find one that was unlocked. No luck. She peeked around a corner, then turned it. More creepy artifacts and locked doors. A few portraits of serious-looking men lined this hallway as well, and Catherine couldn't help but take a moment to look at them. One of the portraits was so old that the paint had yellowed in places. Catherine looked closer and realized that in each portrait, the man wore a cross at his throat. _Priests? No_. She thought vaguely of the Director and the cross pin she wore.

Catherine shivered, as much from the creepiness of the armored suits and portraits as from the temperature. Had it gotten colder suddenly? The thin cotton shift she'd been dressed in offered little warmth, and goose bumps broke out on her skin.

She had to get out of here.

Catherine was pulling the shift tighter against the sudden cold when something caressed the back of her arm. She cried out and whirled around, almost losing her grip on the IV stand. An overwhelming feeling of despair gripped her when she saw the monstrously tall figure looming over her.

_Oh, no. No no no no no- _

The tall man, the vampire, _Alucard,_ reached out, and Catherine jerked away from him. Adrenaline flooded her, and suddenly she had no need of the IV stand for support. She turned to run away, leaving the stand completely. The needle would have ripped right out of her arm if she had gotten more than the two steps that she did.

_Thud. _

Catherine stumbled backward and fell, her elbow cracking hard against the floor. She looked up in horror to see Alucard standing in front of her, and she realized that she had crashed into him. But he had been standing behind her when she turned to run! Catherine brought her arm up defensively as the vampire reached down to her, but he made no move to grab her. She looked at the extended hand, then up at the vampire. He wore a blank expression, but the shadows of the dim hallway accentuated the sharp contours of his white face, giving him a frightful appearance. Catherine did not take his hand.

Instead, she levered herself up on her good arm and tried to stand up. Her eyes never left the vampire. She could bring her knees up under her, but when she tried to rise from a kneeling position her legs simply didn't have the strength to lift her. Almost panting from the effort, she sank back to the floor.

"You're hurt," Alucard said, and Catherine stopped struggling to stand. He could smell her fear, smell the adrenaline dying in her as her muscles weakened to a worse state than before. She was feeling pain, too, in the arm that she had fallen on, and he could smell that as well. He extended his hand to her again.

"Where's the Director?" Catherine said, half-demanding and half-cautious. Her eyes moved between the mask-like face and the hand he was offering once more. She remained on the floor.

Alucard flicked his gaze up to look down the hall, then slowly settled it on her again. "Downstairs," he said. His voice was low and coarse.

"I need to see her."

Catherine watched the vampire study her briefly, his eyes gleaming like hot coals. His expression remained unreadable.

"Very well," he said. "I will take you to her." His long fingers flexed lightly, indicating again for her to take his hand. "Come." Catherine stared at the fingers.

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?"

Alucard's lips quirked into a brief smile. "No, girl. I'm under very strict orders to ensure that no harm comes to you. You are safe."

_Strict orders, huh?_ She wished she understood what the relationship was between this the Director and this vampire. It took her a moment to steel up the nerve, but Catherine did reach up to him. Her slender hand disappeared in his when he grasped hold of it and helped her upright. When she was on her feet, Catherine immediately pulled her hand away and shuffled over to her IV stand. Grasping hold of it, she realized that the tube had been yanked out of the bag when she had fallen, and all of the liquid had leaked out. She unattached the tube from her arm then, but left the needle; she wasn't sure she wanted to bleed in front of this guy.

"Leave it," Alucard said when she started rolling the stand with her. He held out a crooked arm for her to hold onto, but Catherine shook her head.

"I can use this just fine."

"Not on the stairs. Leave it."

Catherine blinked at him, at the arm he held out to her. His seriousness and almost-commanding tone left no room for debate. Hesitantly, she reached out and took hold of it, releasing the IV stand.

They began walking slowly, Catherine taking several shuffling steps for every one long stride of the vampire's legs. He didn't say anything to her as they walked, but she could feel him watching her from the corner of his eye. When they reached the top of the stairs he stopped, and Catherine pulled away when he suddenly reached for her with his other hand.

"I will carry you," he said, reaching out to her again. It was more of a statement and less of an offer.

Catherine stepped away again, leaning against the wall when her legs started to give. "I can walk," she said quickly. She would hold onto his arm, but she wouldn't let him pick her up. No way.

Alucard looked at her, his face still blank. He extended a crooked arm to her again. Catherine slowly accepted it, and they took the stairs one step at a time. Even using the vampire as a crutch, it was hard work keeping her balance, and she was tired once they had reached the bottom.

They continued walking, and Catherine was suddenly aware of how big this place was. There were dozens upon dozens of rooms, but because of the heavy quiet she imagined they were all empty. In fact, every step they took seemed cacophonous in the heavy silence of the wide hallways.

The creepy mansion was the perfect home for a vampire, Catherine thought. Her eyes trailed over to the arm she clung to. Using her peripherals, she could see the vampire staring intently ahead and not at her. She dared to take a quick study of his face.

Catherine had never imagined Dracula to look like this, though she knew that pop culture was to blame for that. He was handsome enough, with full lips and strong features, though just the right amount of shadow could make the sharp angles of his face absolutely ghastly. He wore the clothes of a man from Victorian times, and the longer that Catherine stared at him the easier it was to accept that this was really him. This was Dracula. And she was walking arm in arm with him through his house.

The vampire's eyes flickered over to her, and Catherine looked away. After a few seconds of silence, she cleared her throat.

"Why do you go by Alucard?" she asked. She met his eyes again, but broke the contact quickly. The vampire was silent for a moment before he replied.

"Because that is my name now."

"Oh." Well, if that wasn't an unsatisfying answer, then Catherine didn't know what was.

They turned a corner into a hallway with no doors. Catherine couldn't hear any voices, and she looked around her uncertainly. Alucard stopped halfway down the hall, right in front of a full-length mirror with a gold filigree frame. Using one arm, the vampire reached out and grasped hold of it. To Catherine's surprise, it swung open like a door.

"Where does that lead?" she asked, peering down the hidden stairway.

"To the Director," Alucard said.

Catherine could only make out about eight stone steps before blackness swallowed the rest of the view. Her skin crawled a little. "Is she down there in the dark?"

"I will have to carry you now," the vampire responded, ignoring her question. "The steps are steep, and there are many of them."

"I don't know-"

"You wanted to see the Director."

Catherine looked at him uncertainly. The rest of the mansion was quiet, though, so where else could everyone be? "Okay," she said at length, and Alucard leaned down to pick her up. Catherine held onto his coat as he hooked an arm under her legs and another behind her back, gathering her up and lifting her as easily as he would a child. He started downward with Catherine clinging to his coat.

As the light from the hallway began to disappear behind them, Catherine listened for voices, for anything. It was silent, though, save for the sounds that Alucard's boots made on the steps. She looked back over the vampire's shoulder and saw the square of light that had been their entrance closing up. Who was closing the door? Would they be able to get out?

"Alucard?" Catherine said, her voice small and frightened.

"Almost there," came the soft reply.

Something was glowing in the distance. Catherine squinted her eyes at the flickering light, trying to make out the shapes that it was illuminating. They had reached the bottom of the steps, and by the way that Alucard's footfalls echoed, Catherine guessed they were in an enormous room of sorts. They moved toward the glow, and Catherine could now distinguish the shape of a chair, a small table on which the candle sat, and… something else. But the Director was nowhere in sight.

"Where is she?" Catherine asked, but a part of her already knew the answer. Alucard's silence was enough to confirm her fears.

They were close enough for Catherine to make out the third shape, and she felt her skin break out in goose bumps. The third shape was a coffin, a long, dark-wooded thing with a cross and some sort of writing on it.

Alucard went over to the chair and lowered her delicately into it, like a child would a much-loved doll. When he withdrew from her, Catherine pulled her legs up into the chair and shivered; it was freezing down here. She watched the vampire kneel down, bringing his face to level with hers.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Catherine spoke timidly: "Why are we here?"

"This is my home."

Catherine looked around her, at the deep darkness that enveloped most of the room, at the coffin, and then at the long gouges that marred the floor at the edge of the candlelight. A chill gripped her; the gouges looked like claw marks, in perfect sets of five all over. They dragged off into the dark, and she wondered how long they continued, and what had made them.

"Do you have any idea what you are?"

Catherine met his intense stare. "I don't know what you mean," she said, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning further away from him.

The vampire rested one long arm on his knee. "She did not tell you."

"Who?"

"Sir Hellsing. She told you nothing."

"She told me you were going to stalk me forever." Alucard's gaze darkened, and Catherine realized she had said the wrong thing. The severely dark look was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but it had scared Catherine profoundly.

"My master has her opinions about the matter," the vampire said plainly, "but it doesn't change anything. Fate has brought you to me."

Catherine didn't like the look he was giving her now. It was a predatory one, through and through, and it made her want to scream. "I- I don't understand. I want to see the Director," she said again, her voice cracking with fear.

Alucard leaned forward, his eyes positively bestial and glimmering with a sudden heat. "You can deny fate no more than I can," he said, his voice low and rumbling. "Your blood draws me, calls to me with a passion I have not felt in over a century. You possess my every thought, waking and in dreams, and the idea that you would be denied to me drives me to the black edge of insanity. You are meant for me, Catherine, and I will have you."

_What? He dreamed about her?!_ And the earnestness with which he spoke those last words was more than frightening. Catherine gasped and fell back when he lunged forward suddenly, grasping the chair's arms and pulling the chair forward until he was leaning over her. The vampire brought his face dreadfully close then, the look in his eyes bordering on mania. The abrupt change that had overcome him was horrifying. His next words, though, were calmer.

"I offer you immortality," he whispered, his eyes hot ruby pools. "I offer you eternal youth. Never again would you need fear old age, sickness, or death. The passage of time could become nothing, a meaningless mortal concept, and you could be free to spend centuries at your leisure, watching the world change in ways you've never dreamed of before. The physical and mental limits that plague humanity would no longer be of consequence to you. With my gift, you would be no less than a _goddess_."

Catherine stared into the red eyes, saw her open-mouthed reflection in them. She had heard his words, but at the moment nothing seemed real. Even her fear dissipated as she sat there, almost nose to nose with the vampire. Too many thoughts were overwhelming her, and Alucard's gaze was nothing short of hypnotic. Her mind became a muddled mess, save for the one thought she could focus on, the one thing that made sense out of all of this: what did he want in exchange?

As though he could read her thoughts, Alucard answered. "In exchange," he said, his voice like silk over ice, "you will remain by my side in all loyalty for as long as the world shall last."

Catherine blinked slowly, trying to clear the fuzziness from her mind. "I don't… I don't know if-"

"This world has abused you, Catherine." Alucard lifted a hand and stroked her cheek gently. "You have suffered in unfairness and cruelty, and so wasted too many years of your short life in unhappiness. You will never get those years back, Catherine, and even if you were to live to be a hundred you wouldn't have enough time to make up for all of the unkindness that has scarred you." He took her face in both of his hands, his eyes now glowing with in a way that Catherine found comforting. "But with my gift," he said softly, "you could undo it all. I'm giving you the chance to live the life you've always desired."

Catherine felt as though she were going to be sick. What was he saying? She could hardly focus now. Her temple throbbed dully, threatening to burst into a searing headache. The burning eyes in front of her seemed too large, and she was falling into them; her mind was falling into them. Catherine's eyes rolled up into her head, and she slumped back into the chair.

Alucard watched the girl fall unconscious and cursed her weakness against his influence. But she was leaning back now, exposing her throat. Impulsively, he ran a finger lightly along her skin, right over the artery that throbbed just beneath the surface. He pressed on it, wanting to feel the blood pump harder against the obstacle of his pressuring finger. The girl's eyes did not open as he brought his mouth to her neck, his lips brushing the hot flesh. His tongue snaked out and ran a slow, slick course up to her jawline.

"_Alucard." _

The vampire halted for only a moment, then he brought his mouth back down to suck at the girl's skin. He caressed her shoulders, the sweet slope of her throat, reveling at the soft feel of her. His fangs extended, but he hardly paid the instinctive action any mind. In fact, he was so enthralled in lavishing the soft skin with his lips and tongue that he almost didn't hear the second summons.

"_Alucard!" _

He stopped then, albeit grudgingly. He could not ignore the Master any longer. Taking one last look at the girl slumped unconscious in his chair, he drifted away and up the stairs.

* * *

Catherine came to moments after the vampire had left. She jerked awake and looked around her, only to see that the ring of light that the candle gave off was empty save for herself.

"Hello?" she called into the dark. No answer.

Catherine stood up shakily, the stone floor cold on her feet as she gripped the chair for support. Had he left her down here?

"Alucard?" she called again. He had left her.

Grasping hold of the table now, Catherine peered into the darkness to look for the stairs, but she couldn't see them. She took a step away from the table, then grabbed hold of it again when she almost fell; she still couldn't stand on her own. She wondered what she would do now. Stay here and wait for him? It seemed like it was her only option.

Catherine was about to shuffle back over to the chair when her eyes caught on the coffin a little over ten feet away. The black finish of it glimmered in the candlelight, and Catherine realized that the lid of it was open slightly. Was Alucard in there? She couldn't see from over here, but she couldn't walk over to the coffin without help. Without any other choice, Catherine lowered herself to the floor and crawled over to it.

"Alucard?" she said softly, her eyes tracing the strange markings and the equally strange poem on the lid. She pushed at it with one hand, then with two when it wouldn't budge. The lid groaned across the wood a few inches, enough for Catherine to see that the coffin was empty. While disappointed that the vampire wasn't here to take her back upstairs, she also recognized the opportunity to snoop a little. Using her remaining strength, she pushed at the lid until it slid open a few more inches; he wouldn't notice something that small. Catherine peeked down into the coffin.

It was a lovely thing; Cushioned red silk lined the entire thing, and a black velvet pillow rested at the top. Catherine reached into the coffin and touched the pillow carefully. This was all so surreal. To think that a vampire slept here. Her fingers brushed down over the silk then, and she felt something rough on the fabric. Lifting her fingers up to her face, she inspected them closely. Little granules of dirt clung to her skin, and Catherine brushed them away.

After several more minutes of looking and touching, she crawled back over to her chair and climbed into it. She was suddenly aware of the dull ache throbbing at her temple, and she rubbed at it irately.

A half-hour ticked by, then another. Alucard still did not return.

Catherine shifted uncomfortably in the chair. It had cushions, but they were useless. She tried to change positions, to maybe curl up and sleep off her headache, which had gotten worse, but comfort was impossible. Catherine looked over at the coffin again, wondering how comfortable it was. _No!_ a voice in her head screamed. She had to be insane to even consider it. And yet, she couldn't stop staring at the coffin.

Catherine slid out of the chair and crawled over to it.

It took her full weight against the lid to make it slide open, and Catherine inhaled sharply through her teeth when the lid pushed too far and fell onto the floor with a _bang._ The sound echoed around the cavernous room. Hoping that she hadn't damaged anything, Catherine leaned over and looked at the lid; it seemed fine.

The red silk gleamed in the candlelight now, and Catherine couldn't help but stroke it again. She made a disgusted sound as she felt more dirt grit against her fingers. Why was this in here? Her head gave a heavy throb, and Catherine decided that it didn't matter if the coffin was dirty. She climbed carefully inside, almost sighing when she realized how thick and soft the cushioning was. The cool velvet felt good on her cheek when she rested against it. Almost immediately after lying down, her headache began to subside. Catherine shifted around a little, and she found that the little bit of dirt wasn't so bad.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and within minutes she was asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

There's some Romanian in this chapter, so I'll translate it for you here:

_Miere rubin._ – Ruby honey.  
_Mea._ – Mine.  
_Ești al mea._ – You are mine.  
_Asta e ceea ce ai vrut?_ – Is this what you wanted?  
_Lartă-mă._ – Forgive me.  
_Eu sunt Dumnezeul tău acum. – _I am your God now.  
_Țipă pentru mine._ – Scream for me.

That being said, I do not speak Romanian and shamelessly use an online translator.

Enjoy.

**8.12.14 - **Lots of vital changes in this chapter concerning character development. Please re-read before moving on.

Give me some reviews, people. I'm hurtin for em.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

"Catherine..."

The girl stirred, then yawned and stretched her limbs luxuriously. Soft silk caressed her skin as she did so, and she smiled sleepily. It had been a long time since she had awoken so rested. She opened her eyes slowly.

She was lying on a bed.

Catherine sat up and looked around her quickly; someone had moved her while she was sleeping. At first, the tapestries on the walls led her to believe she was in another room at Hellsing Mansion, but then something caught her attention. Was that a… washing basin? Her eyes searched the room again. A great, unlit fireplace built of rough-hewn stone faced the bed, which she realized now was incredibly oversized and lavish. There were even pearls sewn into the down-stuffed, silken throw cover that lay draped at the end of the bed, and the bedframe itself was gilded with what looked like gold. Catherine looked up, and through the grand embroidered canopy cover she could make out a magnificent crystal chandelier hanging from a ceiling that must have been twenty-five feet high. She crawled forward on the bed, out from under the canopy, and in the dim moonlight that came through the windows she saw something that took her breath away.

The uppermost parts of the walls had been painted with the most bewitching mural she had ever seen. Fair-skinned maidens in flowing medieval gowns frolicked above her, their long hair braided with carnations and primroses. They danced in a forest, shaded from the sun that might darken their porcelain skin, and shielded from eyes that might reprove them. A quick look around, and Catherine saw that the mural covered all four walls. On the wall the bed rested against, a dark-haired maid was opening her dress to step into a pool of crystal water. Catherine's eyes moved over the white skin, the rosebud mouth, the small breasts. She was beautiful, eternally testing the little crystal pool with an elegantly pointed foot.

"Do you like it?"

Catherine started and whipped around. Alucard stood on the other side of the bed, but he was… different. Catherine looked at his clothing, now comprised of a red silk shirt and dark trousers. His hair tumbled over his shoulders, longer than Catherine remembered. She watched him reach out and run his hand over the silk bed sheets; he wore no gloves now, and his nails were long and sharp. Despite that, the motion his hand made over the bed was oddly sensual.

"I brought all of this here for you," he said, looking around the dazzling room. "The castle is old, but it can be made beautiful." His gaze settled on her again, glowing in the darkness. "You do like it," he whispered, and it almost sounded like a command instead of a question.

Catherine nodded slowly in response, her lips parted in readiness to ask the thousand questions that she wanted answers to: Where were they? Were they still at Hellsing Mansion? Why was he wearing those clothes? Where were his gloves? How was his hair so long-

"Enough," Alucard said, and Catherine absently closed her lips, all thoughts of those questions vanishing. Shadows played over his sharp features as he watched her, creating contrast that, if anything, made him eerily more handsome. He reached out with a clawed hand, beckoning the girl to come to him.

Catherine stayed where she was, pressing back into the pillows. Alucard raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. He flicked his fingers in a summoning gesture, and Catherine felt herself moving against her will. She was crawling across the expanse of silk toward him, her cotton shift riding immodestly high as she moved. She desperately wanted to pull it down, but it was as though she had no control over her body anymore.

Alucard took her hand in his as she reached him. Raising it to his mouth, he pressed a feather-light kiss against the skin. The gesture was almost chaste, but Catherine's skin still broke out in goose bumps. The vampire saw this and smiled slightly.

Catherine's breath hitched as his hand moved up to the side of her face, the sharp claws threading precisely into her hair. His thumb caressed her cheek. Catherine quailed inside as Alucard closed his eyes and leaned forward, his nostrils flaring like a wolf's scenting a quarry. When his eyes opened again, she saw that his pupils had reduced to bestial slivers. Catherine trembled, and the fingers curled tightly in her hair. She couldn't pull away.

"_Miere rubin_," he said so softly that she almost didn't hear.

Every fiber of her being began to scream when Alucard pulled her head to the side, making vulnerable her neck. She knew what was going to happen, and she mentally steeled herself for the pain. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, but she couldn't make her body do even that. Instead, she found herself staring up at the maidens on the wall. They smiled and danced blissfully, ignorant of the horrifying scene below them.

Catherine felt Alucard's cold lips on her neck, and then she felt his teeth. The sharp points slid across her skin as he drew back his lips, his mouth opening monstrously wide.

Her body jolted as the teeth sunk deep into her. There was a striking pain, and Catherine cried out, but then that pain ebbed to mere pressure, and then that wonderful, pleasurable heat radiated out from the bite. Catherine's mouth fell open, her vision blurring as she stared upward. No more fear. No more pain. Just pleasure. The heat coursed through her, gathering in her heart and brain as it cycled round and round, stoking itself up again and again. She whimpered, and Alucard growled into her neck. His lips were moving against her skin as he sucked, and Catherine felt the heat rush down to build up a hot and heavy blaze between her legs. She lifted her hands, one sliding over the cool silk that covered the vampire's back, the other clutching at his hair. The pressure released abruptly.

Catherine all but shrieked when Alucard bit her again, his teeth anchoring hard in her shoulder. She arched against him in ravishment, her fingers still snarled in the thick, raven hair. As he drank from her, she reached down with one hand and attempted to pull the cotton shift upward; she needed to feel him against her, press herself into him, show him the rest of her skin in the hopes that he would want to taste it.

Alucard grunted when he felt her fumbling with her clothes. He wrenched his teeth from her flesh, drawing a mournful cry from the girl as he did so, and, with a push, he sent her falling backward into the middle of the bed. He crawled on top of her then, his knees dipping the bed on either side of her slender hips. Instead of pulling the shift over the girl's head, he grasped the center of the bloody neckline with both hands and ripped it outward, tearing the fabric open all the way down to the hem, until the shift fell open and her body was bared to him.

His eyes and hands moved possessively over the smooth slopes and willowy curves before him, and Catherine writhed under his touch. He palmed one of her breasts gently, coaxing the pink nipple to harden. The girl whined softly; it was a beautiful sound. Grasping her by the waist, he bent down and ran his inhumanly long tongue up between her breasts.

"_Mea,"_ he crooned, lathing one breast with his tongue while he groped the other. Her heartbeat was thunderous in his ears, her skin feverish under his touch.

Catherine moaned when he bit the side of her breast. She arched up again, her body feeling as though it would burn up if she couldn't press it against his cold skin. Alucard sucked more gently here, his tongue rolling over the delicate flesh, but only for a moment. The pressure on her breast released, and she watched with hazy eyes as the vampire rose up over her. Blood stained his face and neck, and Catherine felt a profound, morbid excitement in the idea that it was hers. She bit her lip, rolling her hips and reveling as his eyes flared and raked her body hungrily. When his gaze settled on her face, he pounced on her again with a vengeance.

Alucard crushed his mouth fiercely to hers, lips moving hard as they sought dominance. She was his, and only his. He forced her lips open, plundering her mouth roughly with his tongue, and she gave a muffled cry; he thrilled at the submissive sound. He dug his fingers into her hips, grinding himself against her. In turn, Catherine's little hands pulled at his hair, his shirt, his trousers. She forced her body upward, pushing back at him hard, until Alucard could take no more.

Catherine made a pained sound when he kneed her thighs apart roughly. His mouth continued to move hard against hers, his teeth biting at the swell of her lower lip, his nails scoring lines on her hips, and as the fogginess of his feeding began to fade, Catherine became more aware of the rough treatment. She didn't have time to dwell on it, though, as the sound of a buckle being undone drew her attention. Her mouth was released, and then Alucard was levering himself up to hover over her.

"_Mea,"_ he said again, but this time his voice had a feral edge to it. "_Ești al mea."_ Catherine looked up to see the vampire's eyes positively shimmering with heat. Almost faster than her eyes could follow, he grabbed at her underwear, tore them open with his claws, and positioned himself between her legs.

He hadn't bothered to remove his clothes, and so Catherine almost ripped the silk shirt when he thrust into her. Her mouth gaped open in a silent cry as he pushed, forcing himself deeper and deeper until he was buried in her up to the hilt. She was slick with desire but her body was narrow, and so the feel of him deep inside her was as painful as it was exhilarating. Breath came to her in short gasps. She looked upward. Alucard was the picture of rapture; eyes closed, head thrown back, lips parted. When he finally opened his eyes, the unbridled lust in them brought Catherine fully out of the feeding haze. She groaned as he moved his hips slightly, the intrusion of him spreading and stretching her in a way she'd never experienced. He lowered his face to the unmarred side of her neck and pressed a cold kiss to it.

"_Asta e ceea ce ai vrut?"_ he said, his voice a throaty whisper. His tongue slithered out to lavish her skin, his teeth nipping just hard enough to hurt. Catherine sucked in a breath as he began to thrust, his body heavy on top of her.

The fogginess from the feeding had cleared completely now, and Catherine stared open-mouthed at the dark canopy above her, little cries escaping her in response to each of Alucard's long, slow movements. She felt his teeth nip her skin again, and she gave a cry a bit louder than the rest.

"That… hurts," she gasped between thrusts. Alucard kissed the throbbing skin.

_"Lartă-mă,"_ he said, his tone gentle.

Catherine was relieved when he pushed up off of her, away from her neck. As he rose onto his knees, though, he grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her up with him. The new angle made her cry out, but only partly in pain. He gave her a moment to become comfortable before beginning to thrust again, his pace faster this time. Catherine clutched at the bed sheets, moaning at the feel of him sliding in and out of her. Drawing her unfocused gaze down from the canopy, she looked at him. He was watching her, his eyes glazed over and hooded with lust. An errant lock of dark hair had fallen into his face, but he didn't seem to notice it. He leaned his head back, a soft moan escaping his parted lips. Catherine's core pulsed heatedly.

Alucard held the girl's hips as tight as he dared, his pace quickening even more as he felt her start to try and meet his thrusting with her own. He lowered his gaze to her again to watched her intently, possessively as she moved; he wanted to catch every curl of her fingers, every parting of her lips. He wanted to see what he was doing to her.

Catherine threw her head back and stared sightlessly at the wall when he stopped thrusting and began pulling her against him instead. The way he was moving her now was rough, bordering on violent, but she didn't tell him to stop. Her fingers twisted hard in the sheets, and to keep from crying out she bit her lip. After a full minute of this, though, she couldn't stay quiet any longer. The heat pooling in her belly was so hot, and he was so deep in her, and she was so close, so close…

"Oh, God," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Her voice turned to a drawn out cry as Alucard began pumping into her again, his pace frenzied.

_"Eu sunt Dumnezeul tău acum," _he rasped, his nails digging into her thighs. Catherine wailed, her body jolting violently as he rammed into her, and then her eyes snapped open. Her back arched off the bed, and Alucard felt her squeeze tightly around him, walls shuddering. She twisted the sheets so hard that the silk ripped, and then her body fell limp in his grasp. He did not stop.

The girl emitted broken little cries as he continued driving into her. Alucard knew that her body was already to the point of bruising, that she was feeling more pain than pleasure now, but he was so close to his own release that he couldn't stop. Her hands clutched pitifully at him, begging him to slow his pace, and he pushed them away. Selfishly, he hiked her hips higher and forced himself so deep that he was slamming against her core.

"_Țipă pentru mine!" _he howled over the girl's screams, and suddenly he lost himself. Yanking her upright against him, his jaws split open wide and viced down on her shoulder. Blood spilled into his mouth, running its hot course down his throat. His thrusting was savage now, but Catherine's voice had died out with the last bite. Her mouth hung open, her eyes foggy and unfocused; she was slipping into unconsciousness.

The last thing her mind registered before the world went black was Alucard tearing his teeth from her flesh and arching over her with a triumphant roar.

* * *

Catherine jolted awake on her belly, her skin clammy and slick with sweat. She pushed herself up, and immediately banged her head against something solid. The pain was enough to make her lie back down, but only for a moment. Turning over, she reached up with outstretched fingers. They brushed cool, polished wood.

She was in the coffin, and someone had put the lid back on.

Her claustrophobia, a severe problem since childhood, immediately gripped hold, and she scrabbled at the edges of the lid, fingers trying to find purchase. Her hands brushed a sliver of an opening between the lid and the coffin where it wasn't closed all the way, and Catherine wedged her fingers into it. The lid was too heavy, though, and it refused to slide. Panic flooded her.

"Help!" she shrieked, pounding at the lid with her fists. It didn't even shudder under the blows, it weighed so much. She screamed louder, pounding and heaving at the wood with all of her strength. _Trapped. Trapped in a coffin. _Catherine lay back down and sobbed hysterically.

She could only cry for so long, though, before it became hard to breathe. Catherine pressed her nose against the sliver of an opening, sucking fresh air greedily. It was somewhat comforting to know that the lid wasn't completely closed, to know that she wouldn't suffocate. And she could stick her fingers out where someone could see. Forcing herself to lay back and breathe deeply, she tried to focus on relaxing. Something tickled her cheek. Catherine reached up and brushed whatever it was, then stopped.

Her fingers felt hair, her hair, and then more of it. Too much to all belong to her. Holding her breath now, Catherine made her fingers explore further, and something like cool, carved marble made her start. She realized that she was lying on top of something. Her fingertips brushed she distinct shape of a chin, then a mouth, then a nose. She stopped reaching. Over the mustiness of the dirt, the faint scent of gunpowder reached her nostrils.

Alucard was underneath her.

At first, she held perfectly still, afraid to move or speak. But then, she whispered his name:

"Alucard?"

He didn't move.

Catherine started to shift, then stopped. She was lying directly on top of him, and while it was much more like lying on granite instead of a person, she didn't want to move too much. She said his name again, louder this time, but still he didn't respond. His chest was not rising and falling with breath, and for a moment Catherine panicked at the idea that he might be dead, and that she was trapped in a coffin with a corpse.

But did he ever breathe? Catherine couldn't remember.

She called to him multiple times, her voice getting louder. He hadn't woken when she was screaming earlier, though, and he didn't now. Getting desperate, Catherine pinched him. No response. She pinched him harder. Still nothing.

Maybe he _was_ dead.

_Trapped with a corpse._

Catherine bit back a cry and turned over to rest on her belly. She felt around the vampire's neck and head carefully until she found his ear. "Alucard," she said into it, her voice cracking with anxiety. He lie perfectly still, no breath, no heartbeat. Did his heart beat at all? It didn't matter. His cold skin and still form were too reminiscent of a corpse, and Catherine broke down.

She beat her fists on his chest, screaming at him, tearing at his clothes, and when he did not wake she rolled over to continue her assault on the coffin lid. She screamed and screamed and screamed until her throat was raw and she could taste blood. Her fists throbbed from beating them against the wood, and every knuckle on both hands was split open. Catherine collapsed, panting. Her arms dropped uselessly at her sides, resting on top of the vampire's beneath her.

Hours ticked by.

Every now and then Catherine tried to call out, but as more time passed she simply lay there and stared at the sliver opening. Through it, she watched the candlelight dim until finally it burned out completely. Everything was doused in darkness. The hours stretched on. Catherine flip-flopped between utter despair and the slightest hope that someone would come down here soon. Despite her anxiety, physical and mental exhaustion pulled her into shallow sleep again and again. Eternity passed.

And then something moved beneath her.

Catherine jolted when she felt Alucard's body stretch into wakefulness, the long limbs flexing against her. She was pushed upward as his chest swelled with one long breath. His shoulders moved, and she felt his arm lift up to push at the coffin lid. The wood groaned as it slid open, and fresh air poured in.

Catherine all but lunged upward and out of the coffin, tumbling onto the cold stone floor. She sucked in deep breaths, coughing when her throat burned. Her limbs stretched out, and she savored the open space so much that she began to weep against the hard floor; she had never experienced such torment in her life. There was a rustling sound as Alucard rose out of the coffin, and she pulled her arms and legs in so that he wouldn't step on her. His boots clicked across the floor, and then right over her head; Catherine cringed when the hem of his coat skimmed her face. She heard the table drawer being pulled open. Moments later, the hiss and flare of a match. She blinked teary eyes against the glare of the new candle.

Alucard moved over to the chair and sat down. He regarded her impassively as she sniveled and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"I thought you weren't going to wake up," she said hoarsely, wiping at her face with the back of a hand.

He didn't respond.

Catherine tugged the hem of the shift down around her legs, still trembling from the ordeal. Only one other time, when she was twelve years old, had she experienced a true panic attack from claustrophobia. Being locked in a big hope chest for ten minutes had nothing on being trapped in a coffin for eight hours, though. Just thinking about it brought the anxiety spiking back, and she shivered. A sound pulled her out of the dark memories, and she realized that Alucard was speaking to her.

"What possessed you," he said softly, "to lie down in my coffin?"

The menace in his tone scared her. Apparently, she had made an awful misstep. Catherine wrapped her arms around herself in attempt to still her quaking. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize that-" An image of herself trapped inside of the coffin, screaming and tearing at the lid, flashed vividly in her mind's eye. She gasped at it.

"I didn't ask whether or not you were sorry. I asked why you laid down in my coffin."

"I w-was tired," Catherine stammered, her anxiety returning. Another flash of an image, and she was suffocating inside of the coffin, the air being squeezed out of her lungs. "I couldn't g-get back up the s-stairs…"

The work was done. Alucard ceased sending the mental images and studied the girl as she began crying anew into her hands. He let her cry like that for a minute or two, waiting until her sobs died down before he spoke. "You must never open my coffin again. Do you understand?" She nodded, strands of hair clinging to her wet cheeks, and Alucard knew that she was sincere. His impassive expression softened almost imperceptibly.

They sat in silence for a moment, and then a look overcame Catherine that Alucard had been expecting and, if he were honest with himself, _anticipating_. Forgetting the dark fears that had consumed her only minutes ago, Catherine became her bold and brash self again, and she screamed at him.

"You locked me in there!"

The vampire smiled as she threw all manner of verbal abuse at him. If it had been anyone else, he would have pulled their spine out and choked them with it, but the sweet fury on her tearstained face amused him to no end, and the shower of insults eventually drew raucous laughter out of him. The girl stopped shouting when his laughter drowned her out, resorting to glaring at him so intensely that Alucard thought she might give herself a nosebleed. He laughed all the harder because of it.

When he had more control of himself, he fell to chuckling and shaking his head. Catherine continued to glare at him. "Why didn't you wake up?" she demanded.

Alucard smiled and tilted his head, dark mass of hair falling to the side. "I didn't want to," he told her.

"You 'didn't want to?' You mean you could hear me the _entire time?_"

His smile stretched into an impossibly wide grin, teeth glinting sharply. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "You misunderstand. I couldn't hear you."

Catherine glowered at him as he enjoyed whatever little private joke he found so amusing. She didn't understand, and didn't care to. Turning her back to him cautiously, she tried to locate the stairs in the darkness again. She just wanted to get out of here. Her stomach grumbled, and she couldn't even remember how long it had been since she had eaten.

"_Țipă pentru mine."_

Catherine looked back over her shoulder at the words. She didn't understand them, but she certainly recognized them. Alucard was grinning at her still, his eyes hooded. She turned fully around to face him again. "What did you say?" she whispered.

The jagged grin split an impossible inch wider, the red eyes aglitter with mischief. "I said," he whispered back, "_Țipă… pentru… mine." _

_How?... _Catherine felt her eyes widen, heat rushing to her face as he grinned that dark, knowing grin at her. She didn't know how, but he knew. Through some vampire power or magic or whatever, he knew. The desire to scream at him for invading her private thoughts was so strong that her lips trembled, but she pressed them into a firm line instead. A sudden thought had her reaching up to her neck, feeling for bite marks, she heard him laugh at her again. To her relief, she found nothing.

Alucard stood up then, taking slow, languid steps toward her. He extended a hand down to her, his grin tempered down to a smug smile. "Come," he said, his eyes still sparkling with mirth. "You need to eat."

Despite everything, Catherine had to let him carry her up the stairs. She held herself as far away from his chest as she could, though, and her face burned with shame the entire time. After the dream, and especially now that she knew Alucard had witnessed at least part of it, she was acutely aware of every bit of contact that his body made with hers. Even the knee-length cotton shift felt too short. When they were halfway up the stairs, the mirror-door opened to allow a ray of light inside, and Catherine decided she couldn't take it anymore. Glancing up first to make sure he wasn't watching, she pulled her neckline open a little and peeked down at her breasts. She almost sighed in relief; no bite mark. Then Alucard laughed softly, and she flushed ten shades darker.

"Don't tempt me," he whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

Tada~

Please review.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

By the time Alucard stepped out of the mirror-door and into the hallway, Catherine felt as though the skin would melt right off her face from blushing. She immediately ordered to be put down, and after a slight moment's hesitation the vampire obeyed.

Catherine didn't meet his gaze as he set her gently on her feet, though she knew that he was watching her. Instead, she preoccupied herself with straightening her shift and looking around the hallway. The place was still empty, and she heard nothing from the rooms or hallways around her. Not for the first time, she wondered if everyone had left the mansion. A rustle from beside her made her turn back to Alucard.

He was holding a crooked arm out to her, but the mocking smile was gone from his lips. "Come," he said. "I'll take you to your room."

Catherine tried to read his expression, but couldn't. However, she was beginning to feel quite faint from all of the past events and lack of food, and so she grasped hold of his arm without much hesitation.

Like the trek downstairs, the trek back up to her room was a long one. Catherine found herself beginning to lean more and more heavily on Alucard as they walked, despite his slow and conscientious steps, and eventually he stopped altogether.

"I'm fine," Catherine panted, quickly pulling away as Alucard moved to pick her up. "Really, I just need a second- just a second." The vampire's eyes flashed, one black eyebrow quirking almost imperceptibly in irritation.

"You are not fit to walk," he said. "I will carry you."

Catherine leaned against the wall, inching away as Alucard took a step toward her. She held a hand out, as though somehow that would stop him from lifting her again. "I mean it, I'm fine!"

Alucard's lips parted as though he were about to speak, and then the strangest look of attentiveness overcame him. He tilted his head to the side as though he could hear something Catherine could not, and he looked off down the dimly lit hall. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the strange expression was gone. He trained his eyes back on her. "I will carry you," he said again, but this time he didn't wait for a response. Catherine could only let out a yelp as the vampire scooped her up with frightening speed and ease.

"Put me down!" she cried as Alucard set off quickly down the hallway. Catherine bounced with his gait, and she both clutched securely at his coat and cringed away from him. "I said I was fine-"

"Hush. The Master can't be kept waiting."

Catherine glared up the vampire. When he glanced down at her with a severe look of his own, though, she immediately averted her eyes.

They reached the stairs. Catherine half-screamed as Alucard took the steps six, seven at a time. Then, he whipped around the landing corner so quickly that her stomach turned over. After another forceful change of direction at the top of the stairs, Catherine clung to the vampire's suit weakly, her head bobbing drunkenly in nausea. Alucard didn't seem to notice, because he took the next corner as sharply as the others and didn't slow until he had reached a partially open door. Two voices drifted out, and despite her sickness Catherine could recognize them. Alucard pushed the door open with a boot to reveal a spacious, high-ceilinged room. Walter, Integra, and a short-haired, blonde woman in uniform looked over at them from a desk that rested near the massive, arching windows.

"I thought as much," Integra said, and Catherine had a hard time discerning what she meant and whether or not there was disdain in the woman's voice. She didn't get much of a chance to read her expression for clues, either, because Alucard wasn't walking toward the desk; instead, he was carrying her over to a chair against the far wall, a good distance away from the others.

The soft, worn leather dipped beneath her as Alucard placed her in the chair. Then, without a word, he left her to walk over to the desk. Catherine watched Integra gesture for him to move closer, and the two began to speak in hushed tones. The woman wore a serious, even irate expression, continually shaking her head and casting glances toward Catherine. Alucard looked over at her too, but his lips were drawn up into a crooked smile. Catherine narrowed her eyes at him, peeved that he had brought her to a meeting she clearly wasn't welcome to be a part of. When she caught sight of Walter smiling warmly at her, though, she mustered a smile back.

The door opened, and two men in military-like uniforms stepped inside. It took her a moment, but Catherine recognized one of the men as the curly-haired soldier that had tried to explain off the vampire attack at Lolly's to her as rabies. She watched him follow the other man over to the desk, and for a brief moment their gazes locked. She saw faint surprise register on his features, and then he looked away.

The meeting, whatever it was about, was brief and quiet. Catherine was certain that they were speaking softly because of her presence there, and she tried to pretend as though she weren't listening, but she certainly was. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Integra hand a bunch of files to one of the soldiers. She watched them talk until she noticed the short-haired woman staring intently at her, and she quickly looked away.

A few minutes later, the sharp sound of heels clicking together made her glance back over at the group, and she saw the two soldiers saluting Integra. They turned to leave, and again the soldier with the curly hair met her eyes. She looked back at him, and the soldier held her gaze until he could no longer look at her without turning his head. He and his companion stepped outside and closed the door behind them.

"Are you Miss Catherine?"

She started when she realized that the short-haired woman was standing beside her. Like the soldiers that had just left, the woman wore a mustard yellow uniform and combat boots, though her outfit differed in the sense that she also wore a miniskirt and white thigh-high stockings. Her skin was pale, almost to the point of greyish-ness, and it was slightly unnerving; with porcelain skin, big blue eyes, and a sweet, heart-shaped face, she looked almost doll-like. Catherine was surprised to note that the woman looked to be no older than she was.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's me." As she looked at the woman, Catherine's eyes settled on the black and red Hellsing badge emblazoned over her heart. _We are on a mission from God_, it read. Catherine jumped again when the woman dropped onto her knees suddenly, her eyes huge and gleaming fanatically.

"Mistress," the woman said reverently, "my name is Seras." She placed a hand sincerely over her heart and lowered her head so deeply that her forehead almost touched Catherine's knees. "It's an honor to serve you."

Thoroughly taken aback by the subservient behavior, all Catherine could manage was a confused, "'Mistress?'"

Seras lifted her head and smiled, her gaze filled with awe. Catherine dared to believe she saw tears welling in the woman's eyes. "I'm so happy that you decided to stay. Our Master is happy, too." Seras turned to look over at the desk, and Catherine followed her gaze.

Alucard was speaking to Integra, but he was no longer smiling. If anything, he looked a little sullen.

"Well, at least I think he is. Sometimes it's hard to tell what mood he's in," Seras said, still watching him. Her smile faded somewhat, and then she turned back to Catherine. "But you'll learn him better than anyone," she said, her smile returning brightly, "so I don't think you'll have a problem."

Catherine floundered for something to say. This was all so strange, and she didn't know how to handle any of it. Before she could choke any words out, however, Alucard had materialized beside her.

Seras stood quickly, and Alucard dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She nodded to him and gave Catherine another smile before walking away.

Alucard extended a hand to her. "We will go to your room now," he said.

Catherine's bedroom was right around the corner from the meeting room, but Alucard insisted on walking her there; Catherine didn't have the energy to argue. When they reached the door, Alucard moved to open it, and then stopped mid-motion. Catherine saw his nose scrunch as though he smelled something bad.

"What?" she said. The vampire pushed the door open and Catherine immediately heard the growling and hissing of a cat.

"Church!" Catherine cried. She had been certain she would never see the cat again, and she was overjoyed to find him here. Pulling away from Alucard, she looked around the room to place Church's growling. All of her things had been brought here, and so it took her a moment of searching and shuffling boxes to find the cat hiding beneath a wardrobe. She knelt down and saw him pressed up against the wall beneath the furniture, his eyes enormous and his back arched.

"Hey, kitty cat," she crooned softly. "It's okay, don't be scared. Come out and see me. Churchy, come on. Come see me." Catherine reached under the wardrobe toward the cat, not close enough to get scratched, but close enough to have him smell and recognize her. "Church, don't be a butt. It's okay. If you come out, I'll get you some water and-" Before she could finish her sentence, Church darted forward and swiped at her hand, scoring several good scratches on her knuckles and fingers. Catherine yanked her hand back and looked with a mixture of anger and sadness at the tiny beads of blood welling on her skin. Church edged further back under the wardrobe, growling loudly and spitting as Alucard drifted behind Catherine.

"He's never scratched me before," she said, confusion and hurt in her voice.

"You smell of death."

"You mean I smell like you," Catherine said, her tone accusatory. She looked over to see the vampire watching her impassively as he took a seat at the table. He sat with one ankle resting against his knee, the way a man crosses his legs.

"You should eat," he said, gesturing at the covered food tray on the table.

Catherine gave Church one last mournful look, and he batted the air threateningly with another punctuated hiss. Maybe he would come to her once the scent wore off. She sighed and went over to the table, casting a dark look at Alucard as she did so; he had made her cat hate her, and he didn't look remotely sorry about it.

Alucard watched Catherine as she lifted the tray cover and breathed in the food; roast potatoes and pork, parsley stuffing, beans, and a small bowl of gravy. Alucard hadn't eaten real food in over five hundred years, but even he could appreciate the scents that had Catherine's mouth watering. His lips quirked in a brief smile as the girl unrolled her silverware and speared up a piece of pork and a potato; he could tell that she had already forgotten about the scratches on her hand.

Catherine tried to eat slowly, but the food was simply too good. As she shoveled pork and potatoes into her mouth, Alucard stood up and walked around behind her. Catherine looked over her shoulder to watch him, her cheeks bulging with food. However, he had just moved over to her bedside table to pick up the water glass that Walter had left for her earlier.

"Drink," the vampire said as he placed the glass in front of her.

Catherine looked up at him, but he was already moving away again, more gliding than walking. She inspected the water cautiously before taking a sip; it was well water, crisp and sweet. She drained the glass in a few gulps, not pausing for breath until the glass was empty; she hadn't realized how long she'd gone without something to drink.

Catherine paid no mind when Alucard came back over to the table and casually took away the empty glass. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him take a few steps away from her and stop, his back to her. She stopped watching him and mopped at the little gravy she had left with a piece of pork.

"I have to go away for a little while," Alucard said suddenly. "Longer than I thought."

Catherine swallowed the piece of pork. "Oh, yeah?" She scooped up a forkful of stuffing and glanced over her shoulder again. "What for?"

Alucard was staring up at the ceiling. "To kill vampires," he said. He continued to stand very still, his face turned upward. Catherine looked up to see what he was staring at, but she saw nothing. She looked back at the vampire.

"Can you see something up there?" she asked, the skin on her arms prickling with a chill. Were there ghosts in her room or something?

"Finish your meal," Alucard said, his voice tight from the way his head was thrown back.

Catherine turned around in her seat to face him, her face drawn with worry; if vampires were real, ghosts very well could be too. "If you can see something up there, I want you to tell me."

The vampire tilted his head forward and down, as though he were looking at something. "Finish your meal, Catherine." His voice had fallen low and dangerous.

She didn't turn back around until Alucard gave her a cutting look over his shoulder. Even then, though, she didn't go back to eating; her appetite was ruined as she worried about the possibility of spirits skittering around on her ceiling while she slept. Pushing the rest of her potatoes around on her plate, Catherine tried to watch the vampire out of the corner of her eye, but all she could see was his back as he seemingly just stood there and stared down at the floor. He did this for several minutes before he turned around, and Catherine whipped back around to face her plate. She pushed her potatoes around again as Alucard's footsteps approached and then stopped directly behind her.

"Are you finished?" the vampire asked bluntly.

Catherine put her fork down and looked up at him. "Yeah, I'm done-"

"Then drink this." Alucard abruptly placed the glass back in front of her.

Catherine stared at the deep red liquid sloshing gently in the glass. Bubbles popped on its surface, indicating that it was freshly poured, but from where? She looked up to see Alucard moving around the table to sit across from her. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's wine," he said, settling himself down in his chair. His white face was unreadable as he watched her.

Catherine leaned over the glass and sniffed it. "It doesn't smell like wine." A heady, metallic scent hit her hard suddenly, and she sat back away from the glass. The meal she'd just eaten threatened to make a second appearance, and she pressed her lips into a firm line. It took her a moment before she could speak, and all she could manage was a whisper: "It's not wine."

Alucard cocked his head to the side, dark hair falling around his face. He tried for a coaxing tone, but there was a commanding edge to his voice that he failed to mask. "Drink."

Catherine covered her mouth with a hand and looked away from the glass. "It's blood," she said. As she was saying the words, she was already thinking back to the vampire's odd posture earlier, the way he had had his head thrown back, how he had taken her glass away to fill it with…

"It's your blood," Catherine said, and her face became wan with a new mixture of nausea and horror. Her eyes found the glass again, the liquid inside so dark it was almost black, and she was sure she would vomit.

"You don't have to drink it all," Alucard said, his tone softening ever so slightly with the reassuring words. "Just a sip."

Catherine pressed her lips together again. "And then what?" she said. She raised her eyes to look at him; Alucard held his hands out to her and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"And then you will be immortal."

Catherine looked down at the glass again. She could remember pieces of their conversation in the basement: eternal youth, immortality, power.

'_You will remain by my side in all loyalty for as long as the world shall last…'_

Catherine thought of Seras bowing and referring to Alucard as 'Master,' thought of the slavish devotion that shone in her eyes when she talked about him. She didn't want that; Catherine shook her head. "No," she said softly. She looked up at Alucard and shook her head again.

The corners of the vampire's mouth twitched in irritation. "You must," he insisted, the edge returning to his voice. "Now, drink."

Catherine pushed the glass away. "No." Alucard lowered his chin and fixed her with a dark look, his eyes flaring to life like hot coals.

"If you won't drink," he said, his voice low and rumbling, "then I will make you. I trust you remember that I can do such things."

He was referring to the dream, and she knew it. Catherine gave him an incredulous look that swiftly turned to outrage. "You- you can't-!"

Alucard leaned forward slowly in his chair, his fingers gripping the wooden arms so tightly that the wood groaned under the pressure. "I most certainly can," he said, his expression thunderous. "You forget who I am, mortal-"

"You're an asshole!" The words were out before Catherine could stop herself, and what happened next would fuel her nightmares for a long time to come.

Alucard stood up and smashed his hands down on the table, his white face twisting hideously. Shadow seemed to burst and grow around him suddenly, and Catherine's mouth fell open in mute terror as the blackness began to writhe like a mass of snakes, spreading and spreading until the wall behind Alucard was no longer visible. Then, from within the twisting darkness, something began to pour out.

Centipedes.

Catherine shrieked and jerked her legs up into her chair as the long, pincered things flowed out of the shadows in a great wave. The centipedes covered the floor in a matter of seconds, forming a writhing carpet of legs and pincers. They rose up around the legs of Catherine's chair, threatening to climb up onto her, and she screamed. "Stop!"

"You will drink," Alcuard said; his voice had become inhumanly resonant, as though he were speaking in unison with someone else. His hair drifted about with an undetectable current, and more shadows snaked from out of his coat to join the massive wall behind him.

Catherine was standing up in her chair now. She snatched her plate off of the table and smacked a centipede that had worked its way up to her feet. It sailed through the air and disappeared in the moving sea of glistening bodies, but another one quickly took its place. Catherine screamed at Alucard again: _"Stop!"_

"NO," Alucard said, and she dropped the plate to cover her ears; it wasn't a single voice that came from the vampire's mouth, but a great and horrendous chorus of screams.

"YOU WILL OBEY ME," he said, his eyes burning brightly in the mass of shadow. "YOU, WHO ARE DESTINED TO SERVE ME FOR NOW AND ALL TIME. I COMMAND YOU TO DRINK."

The room rumbled with his voice, and Catherine felt each and every word thunder through her bones. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands into her ears as hard as she could. She could still hear him, and she doubled over from the pain. A centipede wriggled up onto her foot, but she couldn't kick it away; the screams were so loud that they were pouring into her, tearing her nerves apart. She gave a despairing wail, but the terrible chorus drowned her out:

"DRINK, AND IT WILL END," the screams tore at her. "YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. YOU ARE MINE, CATHERINE, AND I WILL HAVE YOU NOW. _DRINK!"_

Overwhelmed by the pain that seeped into her very bones, Catherine lunged at the table. She reached forward and, with a wild swing of her arm, knocked the glass off of it. The glass hit the floor with a crash, busting to pieces and splattering blood everywhere. The centipedes were gone, and the room was silent save for Church's low yowling from beneath the wardrobe. Catherine looked around the room, her mouth open in disbelief; everything was as it had been before, except that her plate lay upside down under the table. Had she imagined all of it? She stepped shakily down from her chair and looked over to where Alucard had been sitting.

He was gone.

Catherine whipped around nervously to her left, and then her right; she flinched. The vampire was standing so closely he filled her vision. Catherine put her hands up defensively when he leaned forward to bite her, her mouth opening to let out a scream. The sound began, but it was abruptly cut off as Alucard crushed his mouth against hers.

Catherine let out a surprised sound and pushed against the vampire's shoulders, but he was as solid as a stone wall. He leaned forward suddenly, forcing her backward until she fell into her chair with a _thump_; his lips didn't leave hers the entire time. Then, caging her into the chair with his arms, Alucard dragged it closer to him, deepening the kiss and preventing her from leaning away from him.

His cold lips moved roughly and forcefully, threatening to leave fresh bruises. Catherine tried to twist her face away, but couldn't; he was pressing her into the chair hard enough that she couldn't move her head. She reached up to scratch his face, but his hands caught her wrists neatly and held them in a vice she couldn't break. She tried to bite his lips, then; a quick nip from his shark-like teeth was enough of a warning.

Alucard transferred both of her wrists easily to one hand and took hold of a handful of her hair with the other. He released her mouth long enough to let her get her breath, whispering something against the corner of her lips that she didn't understand. When she began begging him to stop, though, he claimed her mouth again. Catherine tried to kick at him, but her bare feet and inability to see where she was aiming lent little conviction to the attack. The vampire laughed softly against her lips, and she felt his teeth prick at her skin when he smiled. Soft strands of dark hair brushed her face as he leaned over her, and she could smell the faint hints of dirt and gunpowder that clung to him.

Her fear turned to dizziness, and her dizziness turned to faintness when Alucard spread her legs with a knee and leaned into her. Catherine wanted to faint. It would be better than being awake for whatever he was going to do to her. The cold lips pulled away from hers.

"Do you think so little of me?"

Fingers threaded through her hair suddenly, and Catherine cried out as her head was pulled back. She panted with fear, horribly aware of how exposed her throat was.

"I could do anything I want to you," Alucard said softly. His breath ghosted coolly across her skin. "I could tear that shift to shreds and take you right here. How could you stop me?"

Catherine stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, her neck and scalp hurting. Her wrists were going numb in his grip, and she tried to twist them. "You're a monster," she gasped.

"I am. Perhaps you'd like me to bring the centipedes back?"

"No, don't! Please, just let go-"

"I have a better idea," he interrupted. "Let's recreate your dream. Your bed is big enough for it, wouldn't you agree?"

"No!" Catherine shrieked as she was lifted out of her chair. She flailed wildly in the vampire's arms as he carried her over to the bed and tossed her onto it. Alucard laughed when she scrabbled away from him and snatched up the little crucifix from her bedside table.

"Why do you resist?" he said, placing his hands on the bed and leaning onto it. "The dream was of your own making; I merely contributed the setting."

"I didn't want-"

"You did, Catherine. You wanted me as much as I wanted you." Alucard began to crawl up onto the bed, an inhuman grin slowly splitting his white face. "But while your little fantasy might have sated your own desires, I must say that mine will take much, much more to fulfill…"

Catherine brandished the crucifix at him, her hands shaking. "Stay back!" The bed dipped as the vampire crept closer, his eyes glimmering hotly, and then Catherine was pressing back against the headboard to lean away from him. Alucard's gaze flicked lazily from her to the crucifix, then back again. He lifted a hand.

"I demand obedience from you, and you refuse…"

Catherine cringed and tried to pull away as his fingers closed around hers holding the crucifix.

"You resist me even in your fear."

He pressed his thumb against the little Jesus's head.

"But you belong to me, Catherine."

The metal began to give.

"You are mine, and mine alone."

The tiny Jesus snapped in half, the broken bit falling onto Catherine's lap with a little thump. She watched in mute dismay as Alucard plucked the metal thing up and rolled it between his fingers like a marble. It was the Savior's head, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Nothing can protect you from me," Alucard said. "Not Jesus Christ or God. You belong to me now." With a pinch of his fingers, the little metal Jesus head was crushed into something that resembled a quarter. "I am your god," Alucard whispered.

Catherine was flooded with an overwhelming sense of despair as she looked at disfigured crucifix in her hand. The vampire was right; there was nowhere to go, no one to protect her. As life had done so often in the past, life had dealt her another bad hand and left her with no way out. Only this time, it wasn't debt or eviction or identity theft. This was much, much worse.

She began to cry.

Alucard watched her closely as she crumpled up and clutched the mangled crucifix to her chest. _It isn't fair_, she was thinking as he read her mind. _It isn't fair it isn't fair._ Alucard sympathized with the thought. Nothing was fair. He had accepted that, but he had had far more experience with the world than she. He had also accepted that fate was fate, and so he retained his stoic expression, unmoved when the girl began to sob. He allowed her a moment of this before he spoke.

"All of this will pass," he said, his tone emotionless. "You will stop seeing this as a curse and accept it for the gift that it is. You will be grateful to me."

Catherine sobbed harder at his words.

The vampire sat back, his brow furrowing. He had expected her to argue, to throw the crucifix at him, to scream, to fight.

But all she did was cry.

Alucard knew that humans in general were weak, pitiful creatures whose spirits could be snapped like twigs when pressured just right. However, he hadn't expected to break the girl so soon; not after witnessing the fight she was willing to put forth to deter him. As he watched her shoulders shake with sobs, he waited for her to come to and to shout expletives at him or try to gouge his eyes out with the crucifix. When she did neither, the corners of his mouth quirked down.

How disappointing.

Alucard climbed off of the bed and made for the door. He had intended to turn the girl tonight, but she had ruined his mood and subsequently the entire occasion. The corners of the vampire's mouth turned further and further down until he was scowling. How dare she? Countless mortals would have done anything for the gift that he was offering her. Sure, there was a price, but it was a modest one in exchange for immortality. As he stalked by the wardrobe, Church growled; Alucard snarled back at him. He would turn her, against her will if necessary, no matter Integra's orders. Alucard knew his Master, and though her punishment for him would undoubtedly be a terrible one, the suffering would be worth it.

When he opened the door, the vampire almost yanked it off its hinges. He needed to go outside, away from the girl and her scent; the night air would be rich with all manner of things to distract him.

The cat yowled again as Alucard stepped out into the empty hallway. The sound grated on his nerves hideously, and despite himself he ended up slamming the door so viciously that he heard some of its hardware clatter within the room. Then he heard another sound: metal whistling through the air and clanging across the floor once, twice as it bounced, and then the hiss of it sliding toward the door. Almost simultaneously, Catherine's muffled voice:

"I hate you! I fucking _hate you!_"

… There it was.

Alucard's lips twisted into a brief smile of relief. He stood beside the door for a moment, listening with satisfaction to the sounds of Catherine's wordless screaming as she hurled dishes at the door and overturned furniture, before he walked away.


	9. Chapter 9

Here it is, chapter 9.

Enjoy, and please review. I post this fanfic here specifically for feedback.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Catherine propped her elbows on the windowsill, watching the soldiers patrol back and forth below her. Hellsing's grounds were heavily guarded, more so now since her attempted escape two nights ago.

One of the soldiers stationed beneath her window looked up. He lifted his hat politely when he saw her leaning on the sill; she sighed and turned away.

As it turned out, the mansion's doors weren't the only things secured with alarms, something that Catherine discovered only after trying to crawl out of a bottom floor window. Armed soldiers had surrounded her almost immediately, all barking orders for her to put her hands on her head and drop to her knees. Terrified out of her wits, she had done so, and one of the soldiers moved forward to grab and force her down against the floor. The soldier took two steps forward before one of his comrades shouted, "Wait!"

Catherine had been awfully confused when suddenly multiple hands appeared to help her upright; the soldier that had been preparing to grab her was the quickest of all.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," he said to her. "We didn't recognize you." For a reason that wouldn't click with Catherine until a while later, the soldier's face was creased in distress. Unnerved, she disentangled her hands from his and mumbled something like, "All right."

Two more of the men apologized to her as well, and another offered to carry her backpack stuffed with the growling Church. Their words and actions were nice enough, but the men's nervous looks and strained smiles were enough to tell Catherine that they weren't acting out of the kindness of their hearts. As they escorted her back to her room, too, she couldn't help but notice the distance that the soldiers put between themselves and her. They were afraid of something, and Catherine had an idea of what it was. Rather, who it was.

Alucard had been gone for three days. It certainly had made Catherine feel safer a little safer, but more than once she did find her eyes creating the imposing shape of a tall, broad-shouldered man in the shadows. Alucard wasn't there, of course, but Catherine's skin still prickled when she imagined he was. She had no idea when he would be back (she had neither seen nor heard from Integra since the meeting with Alucard and Seras), but she had hoped to be miles away from Hellsing Mansion when he returned. Despite Integra's warnings, Catherine had had a small resurgence of faith that if she got far enough away from the vampire, he wouldn't be able to find her. Unfortunately, she hadn't found a single telephone during her search of the mansion, and her backup escape plan through the window had failed miserably; her bedroom door now remained locked, and she wasn't to leave her room without a guard.

As she was thinking about it, the door's lock clicked open. Walter stepped inside, sporting an ornate silver lunch tray and a cheerful smile.

"Hello, Miss Catherine," he greeted her. "Where would you like your tray?"

Catherine gestured wordlessly over to the table. The butler was always kind to her, but he was still one of her jailers; she wasn't supposed to like him. It would be a lot easier if he weren't so nice. She leaned back against the sill and watched him set out the tray. When he had finished neatly arranging everything, he turned to leave, then abruptly turned back.

"Almost forgot," he said. He reached into his vest and pulled out a small tattered book. "I saw you had a few books with you, and I thought you might enjoy this."

Catherine watched him place the book beside her tray. "What is it?" she asked.

"Poetry."

"What poet?"

"William Blake."

Catherine made a face.

"What's wrong with Blake?" Walter asked in surprise.

Catherine shrugged. "Nothing's wrong with Blake. I just prefer Keats. Or Wordsworth. Or Lord Byron. Just about any romantic poet but Blake."

Walter smiled and crossed his arms, his head tilting to the side. "Is that so?"

It was so. Catherine loved literature, especially romantic poetry. Had she been able to afford college, she would have studied and majored in literature. Walter's smile widened all the while Catherine told him this.

"I can recognize a line from just about any romantic poem," Catherine said. "I mean it."

Walter thought for a moment and then recited, "'This is the place. Stand still, my steed, Let me review the scene… '"

"And summon from the shadowy Past The forms that once have been,'" Catherine finished. " 'A Gleam of Sunshine,' Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Come on, give me a hard one."

Walter laughed and took a seat at the table. Catherine sat down with him, and they spent the next half hour going back and forth reciting poetry.

At dinnertime, Walter brought her a stack of books along with her tray. All of the books had worn covers and wrinkled pages, and all of them were collections of romantic poetry. On top of the stack was a collection of William Blake's work.

"Do reconsider," Walter said as he placed everything on the table. "Blake has far more to offer than most." He turned to leave.

"Blake only wishes he were as talented as Keats," Catherine said. The butler stared at her for a moment, then promptly marched back over and sat down at the table. This time, their debate lasted almost two hours. Neither party was able to sway the other's position, and so it was concluded that they would continue the conversation the next day.

A couple of days later, the conversation had moved on to twentieth century poets. Midway through a debate over whether or not E.E. Cummings' use of acrostics was cheesy, Walter looked out the window and suddenly stood up.

"It's a beautiful day," he said. "Let's continue our conversation out in the gardens."

Having been cooped up in her room for what felt like ages, Catherine jumped at the chance to get some fresh air. In the back of her head, too, she intended to use the opportunity to figure out another escape plan. The butler led her outside to a pleasant little garden patio set in the middle of a rose planting, and though the weather was nice enough and the flowers were lovely in bloom, Catherine hardly noticed any of it.

There were guards everywhere. They patrolled inside and outside of the hedge maze, around the borders of the property, at the gate, up and down the long main drive… There wasn't a single square foot of the property that wasn't being monitored. Catherine tried to focus on the experimental poetry Walter was reading aloud, but she was so crushed to see that there really wasn't any escape, at least not one that she could see, that she couldn't help but be distracted.

The next day, Walter fetched her to take lunch outside. The butler seemed to have caught on that the soldiers bothered her, as he had moved the table to a secluded spot behind some hedges where the men rarely patrolled. Catherine was better able to enjoy the sunshine and poetry this time, but every now and then her thoughts turned to scheming escape plans, none of which were really viable. She often wondered how much time she had before Alucard returned. Once he was back, she doubted she would ever be able to get away.

She had nightmares about drowning in centipedes.

* * *

Days passed until it had been over a week, Alucard still hadn't returned, and Catherine was still trapped in the mansion. She wondered if something had happened to the vampire, then hoped that something had, then felt guilty for hoping such a thing; she wasn't a cruel person, and those sorts of thoughts never felt right.

It was difficult to not fret constantly about Alucard's expected return, and Catherine found that the only reliefs from her worries were the little TV she watched and the lunchtime poetry talks with Walter, which were a wonderful and reliable distraction. She had stopped trying to dislike the butler, whom she had accepted as more of a friend than a jailer; it was incredibly difficult to dislike someone who appreciated W. Somerset Maugham as much as she did, even if he did like William Blake.

Walter had talked to her about Alucard before, but only once. They had been basking in the sunshine after a lunch of steak and potatoes when Walter said quite out of the blue:

"He's rusty, you know. You'll have to forgive him. It's been a while since he's courted a woman." Catherine hadn't a clue what he was referring to at first, her mind still on poetry, and so the butler elaborated.

"Are you shitting me?" Catherine said, ignoring the disapproving look Walter gave her for cursing. "Of everyone here, I thought you would be the one to sympathize with me."

"Do you believe in fate?"

"Not really, no."

"And I suppose you didn't believe in vampires before you met him?" Catherine didn't have an answer to that, and so Walter continued. "How is it that of all the places in the world, you were where you were that night? How is it that Alucard was even in the country when the attack happened? How is it that you have the blood that predestines you for immortality? Fate. As much as you deny it, Miss Catherine, you belong to him. Accept it."

As if that were such an easy thing to do. Catherine responded by changing the conversation topic to what a sham William Blake was, and Walter immediately seemed to forget about the serious talk he'd just given her. Catherine didn't forget, though, and afterward thought very often about the butler's words.

Now, a couple of days after their talk, she was waiting for Walter to come fetch her for lunch. She watched the clock tick away on the wall, now reading ten past twelve; he was late. She drummed her fingers on the table for a while, then got up and wandered over to the vanity, her little heels clicking on the wooden floor. They were supposed to read Keats today and so her outfit was a little nicer than usual, comprised of a daffodil-yellow sundress and a pair of black maryjanes.

She took a seat at the vanity and put on more mascara to pass the time. When Walter still didn't arrive, she dug the blush out of her makeup bag and put some of that on too. Twenty minutes later, her lips were painted rose-pink, and she had put on a strand of glass beads made to look like pearls. She had just finished weaving her hair into a long, loose braid in front of her shoulder when a knocking at the door made her start.

"Miss Catherine? Are you ready?" Walter called to her.

She grabbed her copy of Keats' poems and all but ran to greet the butler as he pushed the door open.

* * *

Walter led her outside, but not to their usual meeting place. The sun was bright today, almost enough to make Catherine sweat a little as they made their way past the rose gardens and into an area shaded by an arbor. The arbor itself was built against the side of the mansion, and it was covered from top to bottom in a lush curtain of ivy. Walter had placed the table there, and on it sat a spread of sandwiches and fresh fruit. Catherine gleefully sat down and folded her napkin over her lap, but stopped when Walter placed the silver service bell in front of her and said in a very formal voice,

"I'll be just a few steps away if you need me, Miss."

Catherine stared at him as he began walking out from under the arbor. "Wait, where are you going? What about Keats? Walter!" The butler disappeared around the corner with a backward glance, and Catherine couldn't believe it. What the hell was that all about?

"You look lovely."

Her breath hitched. She didn't turn to look at the owner of the voice; she knew who it was. Her stomach churned sickly, and she stared down at the napkin in her lap. "You're back," she whispered, because if she stayed quiet an instance longer she might cry. She suddenly wished very much that she hadn't worn the dress or makeup.

"You aren't happy to see me," the gravelly voice replied.

Catherine pursed her lips and twisted the napkin back and forth in her fingers. "We were supposed to read Keats today."

"I know. I'm glad to see Walter has kept you company in my absence."

Catherine didn't say anything to that. She was sad and scared and heartbroken. She wished now without any guilt that Alucard had been blown up or shot or any of the other things she had imagined since he had left. She was imagining him taking a good old stake through the heart when something tickled her ankle.

With a shriek, Catherine kicked the centipede away and stood up. The centipede burst into shadow and snaked across the ground toward the back of the arbor where it was most heavily shaded. Catherine's eyes followed it, stopping on a man's glossy black dress shoe. She raised her gaze up to see Alucard looking at her from the bench where he sat. He was wearing a black suit with a crimson shirt and black necktie, and his hair, usually curling and waving in an unruly mass around his head, was sleek and straight, curtaining down his shoulders longer than Catherine had ever seen it. Still shaking from the scare, Catherine gripped the table for support.

"That was really awful," she said.

"Your thoughts are no better," Alucard said sternly.

Catherine looked at the vampire's clothes again. "Why are you dressed like that?"

He tilted his head, sunglasses glinting. "Walter said that this was a special occasion."

"For me and Walter," Catherine said softly. "Today is Keats day."

"Is it not still?"

"Not really."

Alucard's jaw shifted, but Catherine didn't see; she had already turned away and was staring at the sandwiches on the table.

"I'm here," Alucard said. "You will talk to me."

Catherine bit her lip. "About what?"

"Anything."

"Have you read Keats?"

"No."

Catherine picked up the tattered little book and opened it absently. "Do you read poetry at all?"

"No," Alucard said again.

Was this what life would be like if he turned her into a vampire? When he turned her into a vampire? Would there be constant back and forths like this where they discovered that they had literally nothing in common? Catherine looked down at her shoes. Was there really anything she could do to stop it?

"I don't know what to talk about," she said miserably, the situation overwhelming her.

"Talk to me about you."

Catherine kept looking down at her shoes, anywhere but at Alucard. At length she said, "I don't want to be a vampire."

"I know," he said, and Catherine glanced over at him in surprise. "But that way of thinking will have to change. You understand this." Catherine was quiet for a moment before she replied.

"Walter talked to me. He really seems to believe in this whole fate thing, too." She fell silent again, and then she lifted her gaze up to the vampire's. She seemed to be working up the courage to speak again. "What would it be like?" she finally asked. "If… you know. It's like marriage, right?"

Alucard crossed his legs and stretched one long arm along the back of the bench. "In a way, yes. But the bond we will have will be much deeper. We will share eternity."

"I wouldn't be like Seras, would I?"

Alucard's lips twisted into a smirk. "The bond between master and servant is different. My blood runs in Seras' veins, but not as much as will run in yours. Our bond will be much, much different."

Catherine looked down at her hands and saw that a film of cold sweat had broken out on the skin. "I don't want to be a slave."

"Of course not," Alucard crooned softly. "You will have every ounce of free will then that you do now."

He was going to make her drink his blood. It was going to happen. Catherine had known for some time that there was no way out of this, but she had alternately fought it and ignored it. She might have had a chance if she'd escaped before Alucard returned, but she'd failed. Now, the prospect of becoming a vampire was very real and very imminent. Her legs suddenly felt weak.

"Come here," the vampire said.

Catherine hesitated at first, but she quickly reminded herself that all of this was inevitable. She could keep fighting it, she supposed, but the horror Alucard had put her through the last time she'd done so was something she never wanted to experience again. Moving slowly, she walked over and stopped in front of the vampire. He looked her up and down before gesturing for her to come closer. Catherine forced herself to obey.

"Lean forward," Alucard ordered, and again Catherine did as she was told. The vampire reached up and touched the necklace she was wearing. He rolled one of the glass beads in his fingers before releasing the necklace. "Fake," he said disdainfully. "You should be wearing real pearls. I will get them for you."

Catherine straightened up and looked down at the necklace. "I think it looks okay," she muttered.

Alucard flicked his long fingers dismissively. "It's cheap," he said. "Don't wear it again."

It took all of Catherine's willpower to not say something sharp; she thought the glass beads looked very much like real pearls.

Alucard gestured for her to sit beside him, and she did so mechanically. The vampire made no move to touch her, perhaps because of the irate way her jaw was set, and Catherine stared down at her hands folded in her lap. They sat quietly like that for a moment before Alucard spoke.

"You know now that you will have free will. This is not enough for you?"

Catherine looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "I'm just… I can't help but have a hard time with this. I mean, I don't even know you, and you basically want me to sign a marriage contract that'll last forever. People usually… I don't know. They usually love each other before a normal marriage."

"Ah," Alucard said, as though he had discovered something substantial. "You do not love me."

Catherine blinked at the obvious statement. "No," she said. "I don't. You've kidnapped me, and now you're forcing me into an eternal marriage contract." _And you're rude, and thoughtless, and short-tempered-_

"Why must love have anything to do with it?" Alucard asked, obviously not reading her thoughts at the moment. "There are many more things to enjoy of each other besides that."

Catherine blushed when she caught his meaning.

"Charming," the vampire murmured, reaching up to touch her cheek.

Catherine turned her face away from his touch. "Love is important to me," she said, casting a glance up at him. "It's really important. And trust, too."

"I see," Alucard said. "Very well." Catherine cringed when he promptly hooked an arm around her and pulled her close.

"What are you doing?!" she demanded, half-angry and half-fearful. She tried to twist out of his grip. "Let go!"

"Trust me," he said, giving her a very toothy and untrustworthy smile. Like a child playing with a doll, he lifted Catherine up and sat her on his lap. Catherine fought the vampire valiantly in response, enough to draw a laugh out of him, but in the end he was simply immovable.

"There, that's better," Alucard said with obvious enjoyment. He smiled broadly down at Catherine, who stared straight ahead with a clear look of displeasure and embarrassment. "Are you comfortable?" he asked her.

Catherine didn't want to admit it, but she was comfortable. The vampire emitted no heat, and so sitting on his lap was very much like, as odd as it sounded, sitting on a cushy chair. She didn't dare tell him this, though, and so she said the first thing that came to mind: "This isn't how Keats day was supposed to go."

"And how was it supposed to go?"

"We were supposed to read."

"Then read."

Catherine sprang forward to grab the book, more than glad to have an excuse to get off of Alucard's lap, but the vampire's hands snagged onto her waist firmly. As she was yanked back against him, Catherine fleetingly related the sensation of stopping so quickly to being jerked backward by a seatbelt.

"No," Alucard said. "Recite."

"I need the book."

"No, you don't; you have them memorized."

He was right, but this was not the way poetry lunch worked, and Catherine refused to be forced into reciting her favorite poems to someone she didn't like on Keats day. "I've changed my mind," she said.

"We'll reschedule and have it some other-"

"Recite," the vampire ordered again, an edge creeping into his voice.

Swearing inwardly, Catherine obeyed.

The first several recitations were clumsy and lifeless, and Catherine's face burned with shame. She knew every bit of Keats' work, but the feeling of Alucard's fingers tapping lightly against her waist was an awful distraction, and she often found herself forgetting lines or even full stanzas. It was the worst kind of torture, being forced to do something she loved in a way that made her unhappy. Alucard stayed quiet the entire time, seemingly listening with intent. Fifteen horrible minutes passed.

After stumbling through "Ode to Autumn," Catherine finally stopped speaking. It was too difficult to focus, and the improvisation of that last stanza was more than embarrassing. She sat quietly for a moment, waiting for Alucard to prod her into reciting again, when she realized that his fingers had stopped tapping against her. In fact, his hands had completely relaxed and were now simply resting on his lap. Had he fallen asleep? Catherine glanced up at his face; she couldn't see whether or not his eyes were closed behind the sunglasses, but his head was titled down and his lips were slightly parted.

Catherine whipped her face away from his when Alucard shifted and stretched. She quickly began reciting "A Party of Lovers," but trailed off when the vampire relaxed again. She was going to try and slip off of his lap when his hands rested lightly on her waist again.

"Keep going," he murmured.

"That's the last one," Catherine lied, desperately hoping he would believe her. He did.

"I suppose that's enough, then."

Catherine essentially slid off of the vampire's lap as he stood up suddenly. She watched him roll and flex his shoulders back, and her mouth promptly set into a firm line; the bastard had fallen asleep. Had she realized this sooner, she most certainly would have stopped the shameful recitations.

"Your voice is soothing," Alucard said, and Catherine was caught by surprise. Before she could reply, though, he nodded at the lunch sitting on the table. "Eat your lunch now. I'm going inside to sleep."

She looked over at the tea and sandwiches. Everything was undoubtedly cold now, but she didn't argue. Pleased beyond reason that the vampire was leaving, Catherine sat obediently down at the little table and reached for her napkin. Alucard had appeared beside her, though, and already had the thing in his hands. She sat back as he carefully draped the napkin across her lap.

"Thank you," she said instinctively.

"Of course," Alucard replied. He smiled down at her, his orange glasses reflecting her looking up at him. Then, his smile faded. He frowned slightly.

Catherine stared at him. "What?" She let out a startled cry when he suddenly reached down and grabbed hold of her necklace. With a twist of his fingers, the strand snapped; glass beads rolled down the front of Catherine's dress, and she frantically grabbed at them. "What the hell?!" she cried.

"You're stubborn," Alucard replied. "You would have disobeyed me and worn it again. And stop swearing; it isn't ladylike." He snagged her hands, filled with the glass beads, and turned them over to dump the beads on the ground. Outraged, Catherine opened her mouth to argue, but Alucard cut her off.

"You'll begin trusting me now," he said. "I told you that I would give you real pearls to replace these. You'll trust me to do that. Yes?"

What was the point in arguing? Catherine sighed and looked at the beads on the ground. "I guess so."

"Good. Now, I need you to do something."

"What?" Catherine asked half-heartedly.

"Kiss me."

Catherine's eyes snapped up to him. "What? Why?"

"As payment for the pearls."

How dare he? Catherine stared disbelievingly up at the vampire as he reached up and removed his sunglasses. He squinted slightly against the light, despite the fact that they were in the deep shade, and knelt down beside her. His face was now level with hers.

"You're joking," Catherine said, part of her thinking that he was teasing her. Her eyes flicked back and forth to each of his; they weren't a blazing red, but a deep crimson color.

"I rarely joke," Alucard said seriously. He squinted harder as the sun came out from behind a cloud, shedding a little more light under the arbor.

Catherine shook her head and leaned away from him. "I don't need real pearls."

"You'll have them whether you need them or not, just as I'll have that kiss. Now should I take it, or will you give it to me?"

Catherine looked into the vampire's white mask of a face and saw that he meant every word. She briefly weighed her options in her mind, ultimately deciding that she didn't want fresh bruises. "Just one," she said quickly. "On the cheek."

"Don't test me, girl."

On the lips it was. Catherine was about to ask him to close his eyes when he did just that, and she took the chance to look down at his hands; they were resting harmlessly on his knee, not threatening to grab hold of her when she got close enough. She leaned forward slightly, realizing that she was sweating as she did so. It wasn't the idea of kissing him that was so nerve-wracking; it was the idea that behind his lips were two rows of teeth that could easily tear her face off.

Alucard smiled slightly, eyes still closed.

"Please don't bite me," Catherine whispered to him.

"I won't," he whispered back.

Catherine leaned in further, close enough now to catch the gunpowder scent on him. She squeezed her eyes shut and kept leaning forward until her lips touched something cold. It wasn't much like kissing a person, she thought briefly, more like kissing a statue. Still, she had to fight every instinct to pull away while she held the chaste connection long enough to be called a kiss. When she finally broke the contact, she gasped softly; she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath.

Alucard opened his eyes and gave her a sleepy smile. On his lips was a little pink smudge where Catherine's lipstick had rubbed off. He stood up and slipped the sunglass back onto his nose. "Very good," he said softly.

Catherine looked down at the table as the vampire passed behind her to leave, jumping when she felt his hand rest gently on her shoulder. Alucard leaned down and murmured into her ear,

"I'll make sure they're exquisite."

Catherine stared after him as he walked languidly toward the mansion's wall and materialized through it.

* * *

Catherine didn't see Alucard for the rest of the day; apparently the vampire did need his sleep. After lunch, Walter had come to fetch her and lead her back up to her room, and she spent the rest of the day watching movies using the VCR and VHS tapes that the Hellsing soldiers had brought from her apartment. She might have read, or exercised, or tried to scheme up another escape plan, but after the ordeal at lunch she really just needed to be distracted. She watched movie after movie until Walter brought her dinner, and she stopped him when the butler tried to talk to her about the vampire and her situation. Instead, Catherine focused the conversation on poetry, to make up for the missing poetry lunch, and rescheduling Keats day for later on (it was supposed to rain the next few days, according to Walter). When the butler left, Catherine popped in "Pulp Fiction." Walter came back a little later with after-dinner cocoa, and Catherine laughed until her sides hurt when he wolf-whistled at Uma Thurman on the TV.

"You know she has a lazy eye," Catherine giggled.

"I wasn't looking at her eyes," Walter said.

The butler stayed a little while after that, long enough to concede that Uma did indeed have a lazy eye, before he left to attend to other things. Catherine took a hot bath shortly after, hoping that she could scrub enough of the Alucard scent off of her to convince Church to snuggle.

Now curled up on her bed and sporting damp hair and pajamas, Catherine was wiggling her fingers and coaxing the cat closer and closer to the bed. "Come here, baby," she cooed. "Come snuggle. That's a sweet kitty, come on." Church crept close enough to sniff delicately at her fingers. "Sweet, sweet kiki. Come here, come see me- oh! There's a kitty!" The cat had sprang up onto the bed and crawled into her lap. Catherine scratched at his ears, relieved that the cat hadn't tried to take her fingers off. She grinned broadly when Church flopped on his side against her legs, purring loudly.

"Sweet Churchy," she said softly, snuggling back into the pillows. "I missed you, too." She pressed play on the remote and "Jurassic Park" started up.

* * *

Catherine knew he was there when Church began to growl. She quickly tumped the cat off of her lap to avoid being scratched, and Church darted over to his safe place beneath the wardrobe.

"I know you're there," she called into the dark. "Jurassic Park" had ended long ago, and the TV now cast an unpleasant blue glare over the bed, making it hard to see past it into the rest of the room. Catherine sat up beneath the covers and squinted, trying to catch the tall silhouette moving about in the shadows. She clutched the sheets to her chest when she couldn't see anything. "Can't you just knock or talk to me like a normal person?" she half-pleaded with the dark.

"I didn't want to wake the others."

She jolted at the voice that came from beside her. Alucard was standing next to the bed, squinting against the glare of the TV. He was smiling, though, and it made Catherine nervous.

"You're up late," he said, leaning forward to rest his hands on the bed. "Waiting for me, are you?"

Catherine scrambled back away from him as he climbed fully up onto the bed. "No!" she said.

"You smell divine," he murmured, crawling closer to her. Catherine tried to throw herself off of the bed, but the vampire was quick; he caged her against the headboard with his arms, his eyes glimmering with mischief. "So rude," he said teasingly. "Where are your manners?"

Catherine yelped as he abruptly dipped his head and swooped for her neck, but the expected bite didn't come. Instead, he was pressing cold kisses along her skin. Catherine pushed at his shoulders in vain.

"I'm the rude one?" she gasped. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"I was very hurt by your behavior at lunch. I've been gone for so long, and you didn't act at all like you missed me." Catherine winced as Alucard nipped sharply at her skin. "But I missed you," he breathed. "So, so much…"

"I'm tired," Catherine said quickly. "Please, I really just want to go to bed-ah!" He had slipped a hand under her shirt to cup one of her breasts.

"Take this off," he said with a frown, pulling at her shirt with his free hand.

Catherine slapped him so hard it stung her palm.

The vampire blinked at her as the crack of the slap finished echoing throughout the room. Catherine used the opportunity to twist out from under him and flop over the side of the bed. She hit the floor hard and scrabbled backward until she bumped against the wall.

"Hmm," Alucard said. He touched his face where a flushed hand print should have appeared, but the skin was flawlessly milk-white.

Catherine shrunk down against the wall when he climbed off of the bed and stood beside it. The blue light of the TV cast harsh shadows over his features, turning them sharper, more frightening. And yet, he didn't look angry. He was smiling.

And that really wasn't much better.

"You are infinitely rude," he said, taking a step toward her. "I tolerated your bad manners earlier today, but I won't do it any longer. I'll have to punish you now." The vampire took another step forward, and Catherine almost fell over trying to scoot away from him along the wall.

"Wait-" she gasped, "you can't! Integra, she said that-"

"I respect my master's wishes," Alucard said, taking another step. "However, these transgressions of yours aren't at all befitting a Bride."

Catherine was going to scream when something clicked, and the blue glare from the TV suddenly vanished. Alucard looked down and lifted his boot to reveal the TV remote; he had stepped on it, specifically activating the rewind button. Catherine watched the vampire look over his shoulder at the TV and stare. He turned away from her.

"What is that?" he asked, his eyes riveted on the silent images rushing in reverse.

Catherine pushed herself shakily upward. " 'Jurassic Park'," she said. "It's a, um, a movie."

"Why are they moving backward?"

"You stepped on the remote..."

Alucard looked down and scooped the remote up. He scrutinized it for a moment, then held it out to Catherine. "Fix it," he ordered.

She hesitated, and Alucard gave her a dark look. She came over quickly and took the remote from him, then hit "play." The movie cued up, and the vampire took a seat on the edge of her bed. Catherine stood nervously by while the last few minutes of the movie played. When it was over, Alucard told her to play it again.

"This is just the ending. Here, let me rewind it all the way..." Her hands shook a little while she rewound the movie, but she knew that this was infinitely better than whatever Alucard had had in mind a few moments ago. The vampire stayed silent all the while the movie was rewinding, and when it was done he gestured for her to come sit next to him. Catherine grudgingly did so.

She sat next to him for a full forty-five minutes before she tried to edge back away from him. Alucard made no move to stop her, his eyes locked on the TV, and she scooted back until she was resting against the headboard.

Catherine stared anxiously at his back for the rest of the movie. When it was over, the vampire turned around to look at her.

"Play it again," he said.

Catherine rubbed at her eyes and sat up. She was tired, but Alucard's presence made her too nervous to sleep. "How about we play the second one?"

An intrigued look came over the vampire's face. "Second one?" he repeated.

Catherine climbed off of the bed and padded over to the box full of VHS tapes. "There's a series," she said, digging through the box. "I like the first one better, but this one is good too." Alucard watched her wordlessly as she fed the tape into the VCR. Catherine took a wide berth around him as the movie started, going back to her spot at the head of the bed. Snuggling down into the pillows, she picked up the remote and started fast-forwarding through the advertisements.

Alucard sat up straighter, his head cocking to the side. He turned around to look at her. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Skipping to the movie," Catherine said. "Hey!" The vampire darted a long arm out and snatched the remote from her hand. He demanded she make it stop. "Are you serious?" she said.

He was. Catherine sat back against the pillows and rewinded through all of the advertisements, then hit play. Alucard sat forward, eyes locked on the screen. Catherine couldn't help but find his expression, one of almost child-like awe, a little funny.

"The movie's a lot better than the ads," she dared to tease him.

"Is it?" he replied distantly, as though he weren't really paying attention to her.

The actual movie started, but Catherine couldn't see the TV anymore; Alucard had scooted further down the bed to be closer to the screen, and from her comfy position against the headboard all Catherine could see was the back of the vampire's head. It wasn't too big of a deal though; she'd watched the movie a dozen times, anyway. Plus, she was starting to lose her battle to stay awake. Stifling a yawn, she blinked intently at Alucard's back. She refused to fall asleep with him here.

Despite her hopes to stay awake, she drifted into a light sleep and woke up a few times before falling asleep for good. At some point during the night, she would feel her slippers being pulled off her feet, and then the bedsheets being drawn up over her. However, she wouldn't remember this anymore than when she woke up slightly to the sound of someone digging through the VHS tape box.

* * *

Responding to a recent message in which someone took offense to Catherine's mentioning of Uma Thurman's lazy eye, I'd like to say that the point of humor wasn't Thurman's lazy eye; Catherine was laughing at the habitually proper and mannered Walter wolf-whistling at the actress, as it's humorously out of character for him. And I'm sorry to tell you, but lazy eyes aren't attractive, which is why Catherine mentions it.

By the way, if you have a problem with something that I've written, PM me with an account and we can talk about it.


End file.
